Ashes to Ashes
by Laila Sinclair
Summary: "Oh, don't pretend you haven't thought about it. I'm an Elf from Denerim – I'm either a servant, a cutpurse, or a prostitute." Adeline's summary was short, and to the point. She had only known the darkness in human's hearts until meeting the Grey Wardens - what happens when she finds friendship, and something more? Rated M for language, violence, and suggestive themes.
1. Chapter 1: White Wedding Part I

Chapter 1: White Wedding Part I

Author note:

Welcome to the story of Adeline Tabris, the City Elf. I tried to stick mostly to cannon, but of course, what fun would this be if we all kept to the rules, hmm?

I hope whoever reads this enjoys it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

Sidenote* I'll be tracking the timeline of Adeline's adventure on the top of some of the chapters - I hope it's more helpful than a distraction

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[Early spring (beginning of Drakonis)]

Duncan sat quietly at a small table towards the back of the tavern, looking over his notes. The place was fairly busy, filled with sailors and deck-hands, and the occasional city guard. He had come back to Denerim after recruiting a knight from Redcliffe, Ser Jory, at a tournament in Highever; he was now looking for Adaia Tabris. He would search for her in the Alienage tomorrow, but for now, he would plan out a rout to Orzammar – if his search was not fruitful, he would visit King Endrin; he and a few of his fellow Wardens had been invited to stay at the Royal Palace.

The old rogue's eyes scanned the bodies moving through the tavern with a practiced eye; every person has a story, his mentor had once said – the fun was trying to figure it out. He spotted an older man with long, jagged scars across his face, and an eye patch over his left eye. He could sense the faint pulse of taint through him – he had gotten those wounds from a shriek, by the shape; a veteran of the Deep Roads, who had taken in darkspawn blood.

His gaze moved to another table, where a young Elf woman was sitting, her caramel hair tied up in a neat bun held together with what looked like a curved bone pin, her sky-blue eyes flashing in the dim light. High, proud cheekbones, narrow nose, wolf eyes – a Dalish hunter, come to explore the land of the shemlen, he supposed. She had an air of ease to her, though – she had been here long enough not to constantly jump at the foreign sights and sounds.

Duncan watched as one of the waitresses walked over, setting another mead down in front of the woman. The serving girl was an Elf as well – petit and pale-skinned – with delicate features, bright, green eyes and blazing red hair, which had been braided over one shoulder, but stubbornly continued to undo itself; Duncan had been watching this same waitress re-braid her hair almost a dozen times, her expression becoming more frustrated with each repetition.

"Neria, I'm cutting you off after this," the waitress said, speaking to the Dalish Elf, who scowled and flicked her arm playfully as she took a draught of her mead.

"This early? Come on Tabby, don't be such a _teetotaler_ ," Neria complained, and 'Tabby' rolled her eyes.

"I'd hardly call myself _that_ ," the girl snorted. "I just don't get fall-down drunk in public like you and Daveth." At the familiar name, Duncan listened more intently – that was the name of one of his recruits. Neria finished her drink and let out a groan of complaint.

"Alright, alright, I'm going," the woman chuckled, patting the waitress's arm and heading out.

"Careful on your way home," she called after, and Neria raised an arm, letting her know she had heard.

"Tabris!" the barkeep shouted, and the girl flinched.

"Ahh…sod…" she muttered, walking over to the bar. The surname had caught Duncan's attention – this girl wasn't Adaia, but her features were reminiscent of the woman. _Is she…a relative of hers?_ the Grey Warden wondered, watching intently.

"You chasing away customers again?" the man asked, glowering at the girl, who kept her eyes on the countertop.

"It's dangerous for a lone Elf woman to be walking the streets this late – especially drunk," she replied softly, and the man scoffed.

"I'm taking whatever she _would_ have paid from _your_ pay tonight," he said, and her eyes flashed as she glared incredulously at the man.

" _What?_ " she exclaimed. "How is that _fair?_ " she added, and the man sneered.

"I _own_ you, knife-ears – I don't _have_ to be fair. Remember that," he hissed, and the girl glared at him, her fists clenched so tight that her hands were shaking. "Now get back to work," he added, and she bobbed her head, returning to the table where Neria had been sitting, clearing it off.

That was one of the things Duncan didn't like about Denerim, and Ferelden in general – the way the Elves were treated. He supposed that in other places it was worse – Alienages in Orlais, for instance, had walls so high that the sunlight didn't touch the ground until noon – but he still couldn't stand to see such suffering. _But if she **is** related to Adaia, perhaps I could speak to her tomorrow,_ he thought, watching the girl until her shift ended, and she went home without pay.

oOo

The moon was hanging high over the city, sailing through the dark, blue-black sky, speckled with stars. I walked down the narrow alleyways near the docks, my hair flowing wild about my shoulders like a burgundy flame as a wind picked up, the cool, salty spray carrying the smell of the sea to my nose. I sighed, biting my lip and looking out across the sailing boats and cargo ships, wondering where Daveth could be. _Only half-decent shem in this damned city goes missing…ugh, and I'm getting **married** in a week. I wish mom were still around; **she** wouldn't force me into this nonsense. Probably._

I worked as a serving girl at the 'Fish Head' tavern – most of the patrons were Antivan and Rivaini sailors and deck-hands, coming in to relax after a long day of work. The Fish was also home to a small-time criminal group that I ran with, on occasion – Daveth was a permanent member, as was our mutual friend, Neria. The group called on me when they needed someone with the 'golden touch' for safe-cracking, or needed a good acrobat for second-story work.

I stopped as I found Neria waiting for me by a street corner, a pair of bottles tucked under her arm – a bottle of Orlesian red wine and another bottle of Rivaini rum. "Why so glum, lethallan?" she asked, and I shrugged as she fell into step with me. She was a tall Elf with long, caramel colored hair and bright blue eyes – one of my closest friends.

"I miss Daveth," I admitted, and she chuckled.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later. He's like a cat – he'll come home when he's hungry," Neria replied, and I smiled slightly. "But…I can tell there's something else bothering you as well," she added, and I shrugged.

"The wedding," I replied, and she nodded in understanding.

"Ah. Right. You city Elves have rather… _interesting_ traditions," she remarked, and I snorted, rolling my eyes.

"You can just say weird, Neria," I chuckled, and she smirked. "So what do the Dalish do, then?" I added, and she pursed her lips.

"Hmm…well, when a man and a woman really love each other…" she began, and I groaned.

"Oh Maker, don't start it _that_ way!" I laughed, and she smirked.

"Well, marriage among the Dalish is called 'bonding'. We share a bond of mutual love and respect with our life-mate," Neria explained.

"So…no arranged marriages?" I asked.

"Not in my clan at least," she replied.

"Oh, speaking of your clan, have you heard from them?" I asked, and she sighed.

"No, unfortunately not. The last news was that they were heading north. I think they'll cut across the Bannorn if they can, or go through the Frostbacks; before I left, Keeper Marethari said she had sensed something… _wrong_ in the south, near the Korcari Wilds," Neria murmured, and I raised an eyebrow at her words.

"Wrong? What do you mean?" I wondered, and she shrugged slightly.

"I'm…not sure. Her First – her apprentice – Merrill said she could sense a… _darkness_. As if the land is sick," she replied, keeping her voice low. I think the Keeper wanted to move the clan all the way to the _Free Marches_ ," Neria added, her eyes troubled.

"Don't you want to look for them?" I asked; Neria had come to Denerim two years ago, lost and alone, and Daveth and I had helped her get back on her feet.

"After…Tamlen disappeared, there wasn't much left for me," she replied softly, and I took her hand in mine. I had heard the name before – I knew he was important to Neria – but the woman spoke very little of her life before coming to Denerim.

"Was he your life-mate?" I asked gently. She shook her head.

"No…but I think he was going to ask me," she sighed. "We had always been together, ever since my parents went to the Beyond. He was…ma sa'lath – my one love," she whispered. I gently wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and Neria smiled. "Now come on, da'len – you should head home before your father scolds you again," she added in a slightly more cheerful tone, and I smiled.

The moon was moving west, and I realized it must have been well past midnight – I didn't usually work this late, and father would be worried. "Oh, he's probably already waiting for me," I replied.

"Here, take these – I'm done for the night," Neria said before I left, handing me the unopened bottles. "Now you be safe, alright?" she added, and I smiled, nodding as I headed home.

The quickest way across Denerim was across the rooftops – which was the reason I generally wore pants, much to my father's chagrin; they were unladylike, he argued, but I always countered that I was hardly ladylike myself. I ran lightly over the shingled roofs, balancing across narrow beams and jumping over gaps between buildings, holding my hands out to steady myself.

 _Hmm, speaking of Dalish clans,_ I thought as I neared my home, returning to street-level, _didn't some of the boys from the Alienage run off to find them a couple of days ago? Taeodor's brothers, I think._ I wandered through the moonlit streets of Denerim; it was that time of night where the streets were utterly silent, without a soul around. _I feel like the grim_ , I thought wryly, chuckling softly to myself as I shook my head.

I made my way back to the Alienage, looking up at the large, wooden gate and making a face; it was barred – not surprising, since I was out well past curfew. "Shems don't know how to take out their trash, so they shove it into a filthy hole, huh?" I grumbled, shaking my head. I took a few steps back and dashed towards the wall, running lightly up the bricks and hopping over the spiked barricade, landing silently on the other side.

The Alienage itself was quiet, with only a few drunks and beggars lying about in their dirty corners, ragged and sickly. One of them wasn't moving – he was probably dead. I sighed; I'd have thought my heart would've been hardened by now, living in a place where death permeated the air, but it tightened a bit at the sight.

"Adeline, you shouldn't go out so late at night," my father chided, hearing me come in.

"I thought you would have been asleep by now," I remarked, taking off my shoes by the door. The old wooden floor creaked as I walked, and I could feel a bit of a draft coming in through the back wall – I'd have to take a look at that one of these days. Hopefully giant rats weren't getting into the house…

"I can't sleep when my daughter is running through Denerim at all hours of the night," my father replied with a sigh. "You know your betrothed is going to be here soon," he added, and I gave a derisive snort.

"What, you don't want me falling and breaking a leg? Ruin my image before he gets here?" I asked, a hint of bitterness in my tone. Father sighed, crossing his arms as I walked over to the dining table, setting the two bottles of spirits down and looking up at him.

"That _isn't_ what I mean, da'len," he rumbled softly, watching as I brushed by, going around the corner and changing, climbing into the bottom bunk.

oooo

 _I walked the Fade – as I sometimes did when I became aware that I was dreaming – when I sensed an odd, dark presence. A voice, the most beautiful thing I had ever heard, echoed around me, and I ran towards it, trying to find the source. No matter how I ran, though, or where I searched, I couldn't find it. I cried out, pained that I couldn't find the voice's origin, and I jolted, hearing a second voice blast through the dream._

oooo

"Wake up!" I groaned, rolling over on my side and squinting up at Shianni, her messy red hair shining in the light coming through the dusty windows. "Wake up, Cousin! Why are you still in bed? It's your big day!" Her big, brown eyes were shining with excitement, and I grumbled, pulling the sheets back over my head.

"Uuuunnn…just a little longer…" I moaned, and Shianni snorted, crossing her arms.

"Come on! Don't make me use cold water again," she threatened, and I sighed, rolling into a sitting position and looking up at her expectantly, scratching my ear and trying to tame my wild red mane. I let out a long breath, getting up and stretching, walking over to the nightstand and pouring out a glass of water; my throat felt dry and scratchy, as if all the shouting I had done in my dream had carried over to my physical body. "You _do_ remember what today is, don't you?" Shianni prodded, and I glanced over.

"Soris's wedding?" I asked, taking a drink. _Some girl from the Alienage in Highever, I think. Why they didn't send our betrotheds together is beyond me,_ I almost snorted at the thought, the water running down my throat and soothing the dry tissue.

"A _double_ wedding! _You're_ getting married too!" she grinned, and I choked, spitting out my mouthful of water and leaving a large splatter on the wall. I set down my cup and beat my chest, coughing and glaring at her.

"Don't _scare_ me like that Shianni! My betrothed isn't supposed to be here until the _end_ of the week," I retorted grumpily as I wiped my mouth, and she grinned smugly at me.

"That's what I came to tell you! Your groom, Nelaros…he's here early! Wait, get back here!" she yelled, grabbing me as I made a break for the window. "You're not getting away _that_ easy!" she grinned, slamming the window closed and locking it, standing guard so I couldn't get past her.

" _Dammit_ Shianni!" I yelled, throwing my hands in the air, "you _know_ I don't like the idea of this arranged match business."

"And who _else_ are you going to marry?" she countered. "Besides, I already snuck a peek – he's handsome!" Shianni grinned, and I snorted at her eagerness, crossing my arms. "There's going to be music, decorations, feasting…weddings are so much fun! You're so _lucky!_ " she added, and I glared at my enthusiastic cousin; she was nearly bursting with excitement.

"I don't _feel_ lucky," I muttered, and she smirked.

"Well too bad! I'm just glad _I_ got to be the one to tell you!" Shianni laughed at my look of chagrin.

" _You_ just want to get to the _drinking_ ," I accused, glowering at her. I could already smell the faint tang of alcohol on her breath – she'd started early today, I guessed.

"Which won't _happen_ until you get _going_ , will it?" Shianni replied, rolling her eyes at my glare. "And it's _your_ fault – all I can think of is busting open that Orlesian red you just left lying about," she added, and I scoffed.

"Oh no, that's Soris's wedding gift," I said. "But I'm sure he'll let you have a cup if you ask him nicely," I added. "And you can have whatever's left of the rum after I've drowned myself in it," I muttered, and she grinned, patting me hard on the back.

"Alright, I'll stop tormenting you," Shianni chuckled at my glare. "I should go talk to the other bridesmaids and find my dress," she added, turning to go. "Oh, Soris said that he'll be waiting for you outside. So _move_ it!"

"Right," I replied, glaring at the floor. I let out a frustrated sigh, dragging my feet and reluctantly finding my wedding dress. It was elegant – a bell-sleeved gown that was cut low over my shoulders with lace trim down the skirt, the hem trailing lightly on the floor. It was also probably worth more than everything I owned put together – my father and I had been saving for months to buy the material, and Shianni and I had made the gown ourselves.

I pulled it on, brushing out my hair until it shone, rolling like a red flame down to the middle of my back, and I tamed it into a loose fish-tail braid, scowling as a few stubborn strands fell by my cheeks, which I tucked behind my ears. "Don't you _dare_ come undone – I need to look at least _half_ -decent today," I ordered the hair, as if it would understand.

I looked at myself in the small hand mirror, my green eyes reflected back as I made a face – the red lipstick Shianni had leant me was nice…but I _still_ looked like a plague-victim. My eyes had dark circles under them, and though my skin was clear, it was a shade too pale for my tastes. "Hopefully no one thinks you've caught the _Blight_ sickness," I muttered to my reflection as I shook my head, putting the mirror down and patting my cheeks, trying to get some color into them as I stood.

"Ah, my little girl," my father said, greeting me as I walked around the corner to the living area. "It's…the last day I'll be able to call you that," he sighed, smiling at me and placing a gentle hand on my cheek. "Oh, I wish your mother could have been here."

"Dad, could we…talk about this arrangement?" I asked, knitting my fingers together. He must have seen the look in my eyes, because he nodded, smiling faintly. His hair was dark grey in the faint light of the room, and I could see the decorative bone ring that hung at the end of a small braid tucked over his ear; a gift from my mother, from long ago.

"Still not pleased, I can see. Of course we can talk," he said.

"Do I _really_ have to get married?" I complained, and he smiled gently, patting my shoulder.

"It's time for you to have your own life. Unmarried, you're a child forever," father replied, and I made a face. "The dowry has been paid, the Chantry has issued the permit, and everything is ready. All we need is you."

"Wait…you paid a dowry for my groom?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"There's a lot to arranging marriages. Probably the biggest factor is deciding which spouse travels to which Alienage," father explained. "One side gets new blood and a new face, and the other side loses a family member. The dowry helps even things out," he added, and I crossed my arms, realizing I had gotten sidetracked.

"That's…but that's beside the point! I don't _want_ to get married!" I retorted, and he chuckled at my petulance.

"I understand. Before I met Adaia, I was ready to go hunt for the Dalish," my father recalled. "Just be glad _I_ chose the match. Without parents to represent you, children like your cousin Soris end up marrying whoever the elder can find," he added, and I mumbled something under my breath. I sighed, calming down and looking up at my father.

"So tell me about my groom, then," I prompted. _Maybe he might not be so bad_ , I thought, trying to give it a chance – to make Dad happy, at least.

"Nelaros? He's from a good family in Highever, their youngest son. He's an expert at the blacksmith's anvil from what I'm told. And yes, he's very handsome. I knew you'd ask, so I thought I'd save you the trouble," he smiled, and I snorted.

"Yes, Shianni beat you to it," I smiled faintly. _Blacksmith, eh? Okay, that's not so bad, maybe. Better than being an unskilled laborer and having to work at the docks._

"All right, time for you to go find Soris. The sooner this wedding starts, the less chance you two have to escape," father teased, and I smiled.

"A small chance is still a chance," I replied with a wink, and he chuckled at me.

"Still have your mother's smart mouth, I see," he smiled, pinching my cheek affectionately. "Oh, one last thing before you go, my dear," he added, and I nodded. "Your martial training…the swordplay, knives, and whatever else your mother trained you in; best not to mention it to your betrothed," he said delicately, his tone cautionary.

"He'll find out sooner or later," I replied with a shrug.

"Later. Definitely _later_ ," he added pointedly, and I nodded. "We don't want to seem like troublemakers, after all. Adaia made that mistake," he sighed, a sad look in his eyes as he remembered my mother.

"Mother was a clever rogue," I replied, and he looked at me sadly, nodding slowly.

"Yes. That she was," he murmured. "Take these. Your mother would have wanted you to have them. It's the very least I can give you, as you start your new life," father said, handing me a small box. I opened it, finding a pair of long leather boots, beautifully crafted, and my eyes widened in recognition – these were once Mother's. I grinned, pulling them on – they slid over my legs, the insides feeling like silk, going all the way up to my thighs.

"Thank you!" I smiled, leaping into his arms, and he closed his eyes, hugging me tightly and planting a kiss on my forehead.

"I love you, my little girl," he sighed, stroking my hair.

"I love you too, Dad," I replied, smiling up at him.

"Go on, then. I still have some things to do, and Soris is no doubt waiting for you," my father prompted, and I nodded. I stopped at the table as I retrieved Soris's wedding present, opening the rum and taking a long gulp right from the bottle, feeling the nervousness in my stomach calming a bit.

"For courage," I said to my father, who chuckled and shook his head as I handed him the bottle. "Make sure Shianni doesn't get into that until _after_ the reception – Alarith is still mad about the whole henhouse debacle," I added, and he nodded, watching me go. I paused at the door for a moment, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

I walked through the Alienage, greeting everyone amicably as they congratulated me for my upcoming wedding. I smiled stiffly, trying to look happy, but my heart just wasn't in it. I greeted Soris's friend, Taeodor, as I passed by; he was leaning against the Vhenadahl, the ancient tree that stretched into the sky like a giant, gnarled hand, standing at the center of the Alienage. "Hello, there. Congratulations on the big day!" Taeodor smiled, and I nodded, thanking him. "Have you seen Soris?" he asked, and I shook my head, glancing around for him.

"No, I'm looking for him myself," I replied.

"Well, if you see him, ask him to come by and say hello, will you?" he asked, and I said I would. I glanced over as I heard someone talking nearby, spotting a pair of Elves, a man and a woman, watching me and discussing something.

"Well, it's around the _eyes_ , mostly," the woman explained.

"I still don't see it. Whenever I look, I just see the mother," the man said, and the woman shook her head.

"The mother was far more delicate," she insisted.

"It's the same sort of nose, you must admit that. The breeding shows…" he replied.

"There you go again with _breeding_. We're not _horses_ , you know," she complained.

"Of course not, but bloodlines are important. That's all I'm saying!" the man argued.

" _I_ think the whole notion is ridiculous," the woman said.

"Well, you've got the freedom to think so. You come from good stock," the man retorted, and the woman crossed her arms, shaking her head at him.

"Well, it's the lucky bride herself. Hello, dear," the woman greeted me as she caught me watching, and I raised an eyebrow, walking over to the pair.

"Now, love. She probably doesn't remember us," the man remarked, smiling gently at me.

"Oh, of course. I'm Dilwyn, and this is Gethon," the woman introduced them. "We were friends of your mother's. We haven't seen much of you since she…well…" Dilwyn trailed off awkwardly, making a sad face.

"Father really loved her," I sighed, biting my lip – mother had died when I was still quite young; just old enough to hold a sword and not fall over from the weight. I vaguely remembered the old couple – they had been at my mother's funeral, all those years ago.

"Your father still doesn't speak of her, does he?" Gethon asked, and I nodded.

"Adaia was beautiful and full of life. And a bit wild," Dilwyn said, a hint of sadness in her tone.

"She wanted you more than anything. It's sad she never got to see you all grown up," Gethon added, clasping his hands before him and looking at the ground.

"We just wanted to see you today and express our good wishes," Dilwyn smiled, and I nodded graciously.

"Thank you; any friend of my mother's is a friend of mine," I replied, and the two smiled at me.

"It means the world to us to see you happy," Dilwyn said, her eyes glowing with warmth.

"We've saved a bit of money for this day. We'd…we'd like you to have it to help start your new life," Gethon added, holding out a small coin purse.

"I'm honored. Thank you," I said, accepting the money.

"Maker bless you," Gethon said, bidding me farewell as the two left. I smiled after them, continuing through the Alienage until I spotted Soris; he was leaning nonchalantly against a wooden support beam near Alarith's store, his dark red hair shining faintly in the sunlight. I whistled, catching his attention, and he grinned crookedly at me as I joined him.

"Well, if it isn't my lucky cousin. Care to celebrate the end of our independence together?" he asked, and I rolled my eyes and smiled, crossing my arms at the lanky Elf – he was nearly as tall as a human man, making me feel even shorter than usual whenever we stood together.

"Is running away still an option?" I joked, and he snorted.

"Where would you go? Into the woods to live with the Dalish Elves?" Soris asked, and I shrugged.

"It could happen; Neria's still in town," I replied.

"Live in the forest with the Dalish, far from humans? Sounds like a dream," he said, only half joking. "Hmm. Not that we'd know where to _find_ them, even _with_ Neria's help; besides, why would _you_ run? Apparently, _your_ groom's a dream come true," he remarked. " _My_ bride sounds like a dying _mouse_ ," Soris added with a groan, and I chuckled.

"Maybe you'll get a cage for a wedding present," I smirked, and he laughed, shaking his head at me as he smiled helplessly.

"You're terrible!" he grinned.

"Ah, and speaking of presents," I added, presenting the bottle with a flourish. "Tah-dah! A genuine bottle of Orlesian red," I grinned, and he smiled at me.

"A gift from one of your 'admirers' at the Fish Head?" Soris teased, and I made a face.

"Eww, _gross_ Soris!" I laughed, slapping his arm. "As if I'd let some sweaty _human_ put his hands on me," I scoffed, shaking my head. "It's from Neria as well – she's coming later, for the reception," I added.

"Alright," he chuckled as we walked back to the house he shared with Shianni and Elder Valendrian, "Let me just put this away, and we'll go introduce you to your dreamy betrothed before you say 'I do'," he added.

"Ah, Taeodor wanted to see you," I said once we left the house, and he nodded as we strolled towards the Vhenadahl at a leisurely pace. As we walked by a gap between two buildings, a large rat ran past, and I made a face. "Ugh, don't let Shianni see that thing," I muttered, and Soris grinned.

"Why, you afraid she's going to make her Denerim-rabbit stew for the reception?" he teased, and I glowered.

" _I_ still don't know how you're not skeeved out by it," I muttered, and he laughed; I still _ate_ the stew – beggars can't be choosers – but I just couldn't look at it the same way, once I discovered what the 'rabbit' part actually _was_. As I was lost in thought, a pair of kids ran by, a brother and sister; the boy wasn't watching where he was going, and bumped into me. "Easy there," I said, catching his arm before he fell.

"Huh?" he asked, surprised, and his sister ran up behind him, tapping his back lightly with a thin stick.

"Wham! You're dead!" she giggled, and the boy scowled at her.

"No fair. She stopped me!" he complained, crossing his arms sourly.

"What were you two playing?" I asked curiously, and Soris rolled his eyes at me; I had always had a soft-spot for kids. Him…not so much.

"Heroes and Humans! She made it up," the boy replied, indicating his sister.

"We each choose someone from the Elder's stories and do furious battle. _I_ always win!" the girl added, twirling the stick around cockily.

"That's 'cause you _cheat!_ " her brother accused her, narrowing his eyes.

"Why humans? Why not play as Elves?" I asked, and they shrugged.

"Do _you_ know any stories about Elven heroes?" the girl replied, and I nodded.

"Sure, I know a story," I said, and Soris raised an eyebrow.

"You _do?_ " he asked with surprise.

"Really?" the kids added, and I nodded again.

"It's about the great Elven hero, Garahel," I began, and Soris sighed, letting out a soft groan – he had heard this story a thousand times by now.

"Garahel?" the girl echoed, and I nodded, smiling.

"He was a Grey Warden, but he started out just like you and me – he was born in an Alienage," I continued, and the children looked up at me with big eyes. "He rose up from his lot in life and joined the Grey Wardens with his sister, the Elf mage Isseya, where he became a griffon rider," I recalled. "Garahel is best known for defeating the archdemon Andorhal during the fourth Blight, and is remembered by all as a great hero," I finished, and the children grinned at me.

"Hooray! I'm going to be Isseya!" the girl grinned, running off. "Take that darkspawn! Taste my magic fire!" she shouted, waving her stick around like a magic staff.

"I'm Garahel!" her brother shouted back, chasing after her. "Quick! Let's slay the archdemon!" he added, grabbing another stick from the ground and holding it in the air.

Soris watched them go, crossing his arms and nodding at me. "You just can't help yourself with those stories," he observed, and I grinned, shrugging as we continued.

"Children need Elven heroes," I replied.

"I suppose you're right," he admitted, heading over to Taeodor as we neared the Vhenadahl. "But your obsession with Grey Warden stories doesn't seem healthy," he added, shaking his head as I shot him a sour look.

"I _like_ history, unlike _some_ people," I replied, and he rolled his eyes at my defensive tone. "But can you imagine it? Becoming a hero throughout all of Thedas? _Humans_ looking at you with _respect?_ " I asked, but my words were lost on my cousin.

"I'll settle for marrying the nice girl who hides grain for the winter," he replied wryly, and I snorted.

"You have _no_ imagination, cos," I teased. He ignored me, waving to Taeodor as we neared the young man.

"There's the man of the hour. How are you, Soris?" Taeodor greeted, smiling at us.

"I'm well. This is my cousin Adeline, the bride. The _other_ bride," Soris introduced us.

"We've met on occasion. Blessings on the day, both of you," Taeodor replied.

"Poor Soris isn't feeling very blessed," I teased as I elbowed his ribs, and my cousin snorted, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes at me.

"True enough. Still, better to be married and have a real life than to remain a child," he reasoned, and I shrugged.

"There is something you should know, Soris. My brothers won't be coming. They…left to find the Dalish, you see," Taeodor said apologetically.

"Really?" I asked – so his brothers really _had_ gone out into the Brecilian.

"Don't worry, Taeodor. I'm sure your brothers will be fine," Soris assured him, and Taeodor laughed.

"Yes, I'm sure they'll show up in a few days, embarrassed and hungry," the Elf replied, nodding farewell as we headed off. I could see Shianni, Nola and Tialla a little ways off, waving to us as we approached. I froze, staring behind the girls – some humans had come into the Alienage; three young men, wearing fine clothing and jewelry. They must have been the sons of noblemen, looking for some entertainment – kicking the Elves around in the slums.

"Let go of me! Stop, please!" Nola cried as one of the men came up behind her, grabbing her arms. She struggled free, running off a short way and cowering behind Tialla.

"It's a party, isn't it? Grab a whore and have a good time," one of the men laughed wickedly, his eyes flashing as he looked around. I thought I recognized him – perhaps I had seen him around the city when I was…relieving people of valuables that they wouldn't miss. I gritted my teeth as the man walked up to Shianni, stroking his short, light-brown stubble as he looked over her. "Savor the hunt, boys. Take this little Elven wench, here…so _young_ and _vulnerable_ …" he grinned cruelly, and Shianni glared up at him, standing her ground.

"Touch me and I'll gut you, you pig!" she threatened.

"Please, my lord! We're celebrating weddings, here!" an Elf man pleaded, walking over and trying to calm everyone down. A nervous crowd had gathered, murmuring and milling about in agitation at this noble's presence. _Oh sod, I hope that noble's brat doesn't start anything…_ I thought grimly, narrowing my eyes as the young nobleman sneered.

"Silence, worm!" the nobleman barked, slapping the Elf hard across the face and knocking him to the ground. The man cried out, rolling over quickly and scurrying off, not wanting to get kicked or stomped on while he lay in the dirt.

"Sod!" I hissed, taking a step towards them. Soris grabbed my arm, looking down at me sternly, but with a hint of fear in his eyes.

"I know what you're thinking, but maybe we shouldn't get involved…" he tried, and I glared up at him.

"Objection noted. Now get out of my way," I muttered, and he sighed, letting go of my arm.

"Fine. But let's try to be diplomatic, shall we?" he urged, and I nodded brusquely, walking over to where a small crowd had begun to gather.

"What's this? Another lovely one come to keep me company?" the nobleman asked, his eyes roving lustfully over me as I approached. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Shianni run over to a pile of crates, grabbing an empty bottle.

"You need to leave at once. You are causing a scene," I said firmly, crossing my arms and looking up at the man as he sneered at me.

"Ha! You hear that, Vaughan?" one of the other men asked, and Vaughan scoffed, narrowing his eyes at me.

"Or I could eject you myself," I added, and he snorted derisively at my words.

"Do you have any idea who I am?" Vaughan growled, letting out a startled gasp as Shianni cracked him over the head with the bottle, laying him out. He collapsed in a heap with a splash, landing face-down in a puddle of murky water.

"Ooh, nice one, cos," I whistled, prodding at the unconscious man's hand with my foot, glancing up as the two other men stared at us as if we had three heads each.

"Are you _insane!?_ This is Vaughan Kendells*, the Arl of Denerim's son!" the darker-haired man cried, and I blinked at him in surprise.

"W-what? Oh, Maker…" Shianni gasped, horrified. She covered her mouth, staring at the Arl's son and looking back at me with big eyes.

"Look, things got out of hand…" I began, watching as the two men picked Vaughan up by the arms and legs, glaring at me.

"You've a lot of nerve, knife-ears. This'll go badly for you," the other one threatened, and I sighed, watching as they carried Vaughan out of the Alienage. The crowd around us murmured and stared after the humans, glancing back at us with worry.

"Whelp. _That_ couldn't have gone any worse," I said simply, putting my hands on my hips and watching the Alienage gates shut, the crowd dispersing slowly as the commotion died down.

"Oh, I really messed up this time…" Shianni murmured, and I sighed, walking over to her and placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Move along now, nothing to see," I waved towards the onlookers, who shuffled off, going back to their duties and preparing for the wedding.

"It'll be all right. He won't tell anyone an Elven woman took him down," Soris assured her gently, and Shianni bit her lip nervously, looking out towards the direction the humans had gone.

"I hope so. I should get cleaned up," Shianni sighed, walking over to where Nola and Tialla stood, assuring her that everything would be okay.

"Is everybody else all right?" Soris asked, looking around. The others in the wedding party nodded as they joined us, and I looked at the two Elves standing before us. The woman was about my height, with light, brownish-gold hair and a narrow, mousy face – I bit back a laugh as I glanced up at Soris, who was glowering at my look of amusement. The man had mid-length, pale yellow hair, and soft, grey eyes that looked over me with interest – this was Nelaros, I assumed.

"I think we're just shaken. What was _that_ about?" the woman asked, looking up at Soris, who gave a nervous, strained laugh, swallowing hard as he glanced warily back towards the Alienage gates.

"Looks like the Arl's son started drinking too early," he remarked. "Um, well let's not let this ruin the day. Uh, this is Valora, my betrothed," Soris introduced, and Valora nodded politely to me.

"Adeline," I replied, returning the gesture. "And you must be Nelaros?" I added, looking steadily up at my betrothed, trying to keep my voice neutral as I observed him. He seemed amused by my slightly brusque tone, glancing at Soris.

"A pleasure. Soris said much of you – some of it was even positive," he teased, and I shot Soris a glare.

"Hey, I just wanted to give you a sporting chance to run," my cousin laughed, and I frowned at him.

"Gee, _thanks_ Soris. My betrothed probably thinks I'm a wild _animal_ now," I muttered, mortified.

"I'm…sure the two of you have a lot to discuss," Soris added, walking a little ways off with Valora to give us some privacy.

"Well, here we are… Are you nervous?" Nelaros asked, and I bit my lip, twining my fingers together.

"A little," I admitted, and his expression softened as he saw the nervousness in my eyes.

"I thought I'd stay calm, but finally seeing you has made me… Well, let's just say I'm not calm," he replied. He gently took my hands in his; they were a bit rough, and had small calluses along the palms, but they were warm, and strong – the hands of a smith.

"I suppose…things can only get better?" I tried, and Nelaros smiled, calming down a bit. There was something about him that calmed me down as well; maybe it was the gentle understanding that reflected in his eyes. _Maybe…maybe this really **won't** be so bad._

"I think you're right. I'm looking forward to seeing how life unfolds," Nelaros replied. "I'll spend every waking moment learning to make you happy, Adeline," he added, and I felt my heart tighten, heat crawling over my neck and ears as I blushed.

"I-I hope I'm worthy of that, Nelaros," I squeaked out, glancing down, and he chuckled softly at my sudden shyness.

I glanced over my shoulder as I felt Soris nudge me lightly, giving me a forced smile. "Come _on_ , Cousin. We should let them get _ready_ ," he said through his teeth, almost pleadingly, and I fought back a smirk at his discomfort.

"We'll see you two in a bit. Don't disappear on us," Valora teased, seeing Soris's expression.

"Or we'll come find you," Nelaros added, pinching my cheek very gently before heading off to join the rest of the wedding party.

"Well that was…not what I expected. The Mouse seems nice, too," I tried to reassure Soris, but he was looking back towards the Vhenadahl, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Don't look now, but we have another problem," he murmured, and I followed his gaze.

"What do you mean? It's not Vaughan again, is it?" I asked warily, looking around.

"Another human just walked in. Could be one of Vaughan's, or just a random troublemaker. Either way, we need to move him along before someone does something stupid," Soris said, and I spotted who he was talking about. The human had dark hair and skin – a Rivaini man, maybe, and a mercenary to boot, judging by the equipment he wore. A neatly-kept beard decorated his jaw, and his long hair was tied in a wolf-tail behind his head. He had a pair of blades on his back, and his armor was bright, and very well-made, which was a bit peculiar for a mercenary, but not unheard of.

"One human shouldn't cause much trouble. Probably," I remarked, not entirely convinced of that myself, after what had just happened. And this one was armed.

"I'm more worried about some of our boys. Wine is flowing, and I don't think we want another incident," Soris replied. I could already hear some of the men singing a bawdy song nearby about a woman in the sea, and I nodded slightly, knowing what he meant.

"Let's just _kill_ him, then – I'm sick of the shems just marching in here," I said offhandedly, and Soris rolled his eyes at me.

"You really scare me sometimes, you know that cos?" he sighed, and I grinned.

"I'm _kidding_ ," I assured him, but he looked a bit doubtful.

"Let's just…get him out of here," he replied. " _Peacefully_ this time," he added, giving me a pointed look, and we walked cautiously towards the man.

"S'not _my_ fault things got out of hand. You'd think the nobles wouldn't want to dirty their boots coming down here and associating with us 'lesser beings'. Sodding shems," I replied, making air-quotes. Soris elbowed me slightly as we approached the stranger, and I lowered my hands – he had probably caught the tail end of our conversation, and was watching our approach curiously.

I glanced around quickly, taking in the surroundings; there were some loose bits of wood nearby that I could maybe knock over as a distraction, and if I was quick enough, I could snatch one of his blades to defend myself with, should trouble arise. The human was a half-head taller than Soris, and as I stood before him, I fought not to make a face – I barely reached his shoulder.

"Good day. I understand congratulations are in order for your impending wedding," he greeted in a deep, rich voice, and I raised an eyebrow at his genial tone.

"Is…he okay?" I whispered to Soris, who shrugged.

"I don't know. He seems…polite," he whispered back, equally puzzled. I looked warily up at the man, who was watching the two of us with interest.

"Do you have business here, she-… - _ahem_ \- ser?" I asked, covering myself quickly with a cough; I didn't really want to make him mad by calling him a shem. Not to his face, at least.

"I do. I believe, however, that I may have already found what I was seeking," the man replied, glossing over my stumble, and I nodded amicably, trying to smile.

"And what might that be?" I asked, curious despite myself.

"That is my business," the man replied, though his tone was not unkind.

"Fair enough. I suppose you will be leaving presently, yes?" I asked, almost insistent.

"I'm sorry, but I have no intention of leaving," the man replied. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, as if he were biting back a smile at the flash of impatience in my eyes. I knitted my fingers together by my waist, trying to remain civil.

"Please ser, we would rather avoid any… _unpleasantness_ ," I cautioned, glancing quickly around to make sure there weren't any other humans hanging about.

"What manner of unpleasantness would you be referring to?" the man asked as he glanced between the two of us, almost chuckling.

"The…the Alienage just isn't a good place for she-… _humans_ ," I replied carefully, and he crossed his arms, slightly amused by my attempts to reason with him. Soris was looking between us warily, seeming very tense in the presence of this armed stranger. "I will ask once more, politely; please leave," I pressed.

"And I refuse, yet again. Now what?" the man challenged, though his voice was still calm. Soris looked at me nervously, sensing my fraying temper.

"Please, ser, I am trying to be…polite. This is no place for humans – I will eject you myself if I must," I argued, my tone hardening slightly.

"Surely it has not escaped your notice that I am both armed and armored. Any fight between us would be…rather one-sided," he observed. I let out a quiet sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose and muttering 'stubborn old man' under my breath.

"All the more reason for you to go!" I urged, my body tensing. I glanced around; there was a broom nearby that I might be able to defend myself with, but I would have to move quickly if he insisted on causing trouble.

"I have no intention of leaving. Unless you intend to force me to do so?" the man asked – he was almost _challenging_ me.

"You're _not_ staying, armed or not," I said firmly, nodding towards the Alienage gate. "I would very much prefer _not_ to have to resort to violent means, but if you force my hand, I assure you that a fight between us would not be as one-sided as you believe," I added pointedly, and Soris looked down at me with big eyes, as if he couldn't believe what I was saying.

"Adeline, is this really a good idea?" he hissed under his breath, and I glanced quickly at him.

"No, but I seem to be all out of those today," I muttered back, and he scowled at my glibness.

"Try not to die; I'll run for help!" Soris said suddenly, his eyes darting around for anyone who could help us.

"What? _Soris!_ " I exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air as he turned to run, exasperated at my nervous cousin.

"No need, I am not here to fight you," the man said calmly, holding his hands up to show he meant us no harm. "Still, I find such bravery most impressive…do you not agree, Valendrian?" he remarked, and Soris and I looked over in surprise as the Elder walked over, joining us.

"I would say the world has far more use of those who know how to stay their blades," Valendrian replied, glancing between Soris and myself as we stood, looking up at him in confusion.

"It is good to see you again, my old friend. It has been far too long," the human said, and Valendrian smiled at him, nodding. My face turned bright red as I realized what was going on, and I bowed my head in apology.

"I-I'm sorry, I had no idea…" I apologized nervously, and the man smiled at my flustered expression.

"I was hardly forthcoming, and for that I apologize," the man replied gently.

"May I present Duncan, head of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden," Valendrian introduced, and my eyes widened.

"Grey Warden? Like the one that Mother told me about?" I asked, suddenly excited, and Duncan smiled faintly at my expression.

"Just so," Valendrian replied, glancing back towards Duncan. "But my question remains unanswered. Why are you here, Duncan?" the Elder asked.

"The worst has happened; a Blight has begun. King Cailan summons the Grey Wardens to Ostagar to fight the darkspawn horde alongside his armies," Duncan explained, and Valendrian's face fell.

"Yes…I had heard the news. Still, this is an awkward time. There is to be a wedding – two, in fact," the Elder replied, indicating Soris and me.

"So I see. By all means, attend to your ceremonies. My concerns can wait, for now," Duncan said, glancing back at me.

"Very well. Children, treat Duncan as my guest. And for the Maker's sake, _take your places!_ " Valendrian said, pointing sternly towards the wedding party. We nodded, watching as he went to meet with the priest, the bridesmaids assembling on the platform.

I looked curiously at Duncan, and he smiled when he saw the look in my eye. "Was there something else?" he asked.

"I was wondering how you know the Elder," I replied.

"Valendrian and I have known each other for almost twenty years…since the time I tried to recruit your mother, in fact," he explained, and my eyes widened.

" _You_ were the one she told me about?" I gasped. Mom had told me that before I had been born, a Grey Warden had come to the Alienage, looking to find recruits for the order among the Elves.

"Indeed. Adaia was a fiery woman. She would have made an excellent Grey Warden," Duncan replied, and I bit my lip.

"But…she never said anything about being recruited," I recalled, and Duncan nodded.

"I never made the offer. Valendrian convinced me that it was better for her to remain here with her family. As there was no Blight and thus no immediate need for recruits, I deferred to his wishes," Duncan explained. "But it seems she passed her training on to you, am I right?" he added, and I looked at him with surprise.

"I-I have no idea what you're talking about," I denied quickly, and he smiled faintly.

"Worry not, dear girl. You do not have to trust me, in fact," he replied. "I have already heard a great deal about you, if you must know. But we can speak more of this later. You have a wedding to attend," he added, nodding towards the platform.

"True…" I murmured, looking up as I saw Nelaros and Valora making their way over to the priest. "I look forward to speaking to you later, Duncan," I said, nodding politely.

"As do I," he replied, watching as Soris and I walked towards the rest of the wedding party.

"Ooh! Soris! There you are. I was afraid you'd run off," Valora teased as we took our places. Shianni came over and placed a wedding crown woven from small, white flowers on my brow, grinning at me and winking.

"No, I'm here, with Nelaros's blushing bride in tow!" Soris replied, standing next to Valora and taking her hand.

"You look radiant," Nelaros complimented, and I looked up at him, twining my fingers in his and giving him a reassuring smile.

"You're quite dashing yourself," I replied with a small wink, and he chuckled.

"It looks like everyone's ready," Soris breathed, still a bit nervous.

"Good luck, Soris," I teased quietly, and he rolled his eyes at me.

"You too, Cousin. Maybe it won't be so bad, after all," he replied, and Valora shook her head at him, sighing at his reluctance. Valendrian walked to the center of the platform, looking around at us for a moment before addressing the gathered crowd of Elves.

"Friends and family, today we celebrate not only this joining, but also our bonds of kin and kind," he began, holding his hands out. "We are a free people, but that was not always so. Andraste, the Maker's prophet, freed us from the bonds of slavery," his voice rose over the crowd of gathered Elves, and I spotted my father standing nearby, giving me a small, reassuring smile. "As our community grows, remember that our strength lies in commitment to tradition and to each other," Valendrian finished, glancing over at Mother Boann, who nodded and glanced towards the four of us with a smile.

"Thank you, Valendrian. Now, let us begin," she said, her voice echoing off the nearby buildings, clear and bright. "In the name of the Maker, who brought us this world, and in whose name we say the Chant of Light, I–" the young Mother paused as she saw the look of fear and surprise on our faces, turning around quickly as someone screamed.

The crowd was murmuring and gasping, and children shrieked and ran out of the way as Vaughan, his two lackeys, and a group of armed and armored guards marched through the Alienage, coming right towards us. "Andraste's mercy…" I mumbled, my fingers tightening on Nelaros's as he glared at Vaughan, taking a defensive step in front of me.

"Milord? This is an…unexpected surprise," Mother Boann greeted nervously, confused by the presence of the Arl's son – she probably sensed that this wasn't a friendly visit.

"Sorry to interrupt, Mother, but I'm having a party and we're dreadfully short of female guests," Vaughan said, chuckling darkly as his eyes darted hungrily over the wedding party, lingering on each of the bridesmaids, and on Valora and me.

"Milord, this is a _wedding!_ " Mother Boann asserted indignantly, putting her hands on her hips, and Vaughan marched over to the woman, looming over her threateningly as he shoved nearby Elves roughly aside.

"Ha! If you want to dress up your pets and have tea parties, that's your business. But don't pretend this is a _proper_ wedding," he sneered, glowering at the assembled Elves. "Now, we're here for a good time, aren't we boys?" he asked, and his two lackeys laughed, moving among the wedding party like foxes in a chicken coop.

"Just a good time with the ladies, that's all," one of them grinned crookedly, standing near Nola and Tialla. The girls were staring up at him in fear, clutching tightly to their bouquets of white flowers, loose petals falling off as they shivered.

"Let's take those two, the one in the tight dress, and…where's the bitch that bottled me?" Vaughan asked, looking around for Shianni.

"Over here, Lord Vaughan!" one of his hench-lords called, grabbing Shianni's arms as the girl struggled to get away.

"Let me go, you stuffed-shirt son of a–" she gasped, glaring at the man as he restrained her.

"Oh, I'll enjoy taming her," Vaughan grinned cruelly, glancing over towards me. "And see the pretty bride…" he added, and I glared at him.

"Don't worry. I won't let them take you!" Nelaros said, stepping in front of me.

"But I can't just let them take the others!" I cried, gripping his arm as he glanced back at me.

"Ah, yes…such a well-formed little thing," Vaughan said, his eyes moving lustfully over my body, flashing with cruelty.

"You _villains!_ " Nelaros growled, glaring at the man.

"That's quite enough. I'm sure we all want to avoid further…um, unpleasantness," Vaughan chuckled wickedly.

"If you lay a hand on them, I'll slit your throat!" I hissed, and Vaughan laughed.

"Ha! This one has spirit!" he grinned, slapping me hard across the face and knocking me backwards. "Oh, we're going to have some fun," I heard him say as I stumbled backwards off the pedestal and fell, blacking out as my head hit the dirt.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Notes:

* I know that in game, his name is Vaughan Urien, but his wiki entry says that Urien is actually his father's name

Neria is the default name for Surana, I know - I was using it for my Dalish Warden without realizing why it seemed so familiar, and it just sort of stuck.


	2. Chapter 2: White Wedding Part II

Chapter 2: White Wedding Part II

Author note:

I always wondered what Nelaros and Soris were doing when the female Warden gets kidnapped - I suppose it's similar to the male city Elf part of the story.

Disclaimer - I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

As soon as Adeline hit the ground, Nelaros let out a snarl, balling his fist and cracking Vaughn hard across the jaw. "Leave them alone!" the Elf shouted as Vaughan's lackeys grabbed his arms, restraining the furious Elf as Vaughan staggered to his feet, his face colored with shock at the strength behind the punch – Nelaros had nearly broken his jaw.

"Insolent _worm_ ," the nobleman growled, grabbing a sword from one of his guards and brandishing it aloft. He raised it above his head to strike, and Duncan – who had been watching in silence the entire time – stepped forward, unable to take it any longer. He couldn't risk the ire of Ferelden's nobility, what with the Grey Wardens' delicate standing, but this had gone too far; he would not sit by while a young man was slaughtered before him, and his betrothed carried off and raped.

Before Duncan could approach, he heard a high-pitched twang, and a yelp of pain as Vaughan dropped the sword, clutching the back of his hand as a line of blood rolled down his knuckles. An arrow lay in the ground nearby, and Duncan looked up towards a nearby rooftop, spotting a cowled woman holding a bow, standing at the ready with another arrow on the string.

"Begone from here, shemlen," her voice echoed down at them, laced with disdain, and Duncan recognized the style of her weapons as Dalish. _Is she the Dalish woman from last night?_ he wondered, glancing back as some of the soldiers Vaughan had brought prepared their crossbows. They fired at the woman and she leapt lightly out of the way, swearing as she skidded across the rooftops. While the crossbowmen were holding her off, Vaughan's other guards grabbed the shrieking women and marched back through the Alienage gates, the eyes of dozens of terrified Elves on their backs as they went.

"Ugh, _sod!_ " Neria gasped when they left, sliding down the rooftop and running towards Soris. "Soris! Are you alright?" she exclaimed, pulling the cowl from her head, her caramel hair undoing itself partially from the neat bun.

"I…I-I…" Soris trailed off, looking down in shame – he had been frozen with fear the entire time; he hadn't even spoken a word to defend Valora. Neria's head turned sharply to the side as she spotted Nelaros struggling to his feet; when she had arrived, Vaughan's hench-lords had thrown him down and given him each a sharp kick before they had run. He clenched his teeth, glaring at the Alienage gates with intense hatred in his eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked Neria, who raised an eyebrow at him.

"I could ask the same," she remarked. She followed his gaze and sighed, crossing her arms. "But I assume you're Tabby's betrothed? Adeline, I mean," she added. The Elf nodded, straightening and taking a few deep breaths.

"The name's Nelaros," he introduced himself, shaking her hand, and Neria nodded.

"Neria," she replied. "Now, by the look in your eye, you're not going to just sit back and accept this," she added, and Nelaros clenched his teeth.

"Of course not!" he exclaimed.

"Now boy, you'll only get yourself killed," an older man warned.

"Yeah, and all of us with you," a woman added, and Nelaros scowled at them.

"Do you hear yourselves right now?" he shouted, looking around at the frightened faces in frustration. "They just _kidnapped_ five women! No one's going to try to _rescue_ them?" he asked incredulously, and the Elves milled around, murmuring to themselves.

"There's nothing for it," a man sighed. "We need to just sit back and hope for the best."

"Hope for the best?" Nelaros fumed. " _Hope for the best?_ " he nearly exploded. He threw his hands in the air, stomping down from the platform and pushing roughly through the crowd. "I'm not going to sit by while Vaughan does Maker knows _what_ to them! As soon as we get out, I'm taking Adeline out of this rat-hole of an Alienage!" he scoffed, rummaging through a crate of supplies that he had brought with him from Highever. He had planned to set up a small smithy in the Alienage, if he could – make decent tools for the Elves at affordable prices – but now, seeing their cowardice, he changed those plans; he would take Adeline somewhere far away from all of this chaos, where the humans couldn't hurt her anymore.

He scowled as he grabbed one of his hammers from the box, looking it over. _Better than nothing,_ he reasoned, although he was loath to admit that chances of being able to rescue the girls would be slim, even if he _had_ any decent weapons or armor. "Oh good. A flat-ear who _isn't_ a sniveling coward," Nelaros glanced up at the sound of Neria's voice. She strode over, crossing her arms and looking at the hammer in his hand. "You'll need more than that to break into the Arl of Denerim's estate," she added.

Soris shuffled over nervously, a guilty look in his eyes, and he glanced between the two. "Nelaros, if…if you're going to rescue them, I'm coming too," the anxious Elf said, and Nelaros sighed, looking him over.

"I'm sorry Soris, but you're just going to get yourself killed," he argued, and Soris crossed his arms.

"No, I won't. Aunt Adaia taught me a little about combat as well, though not as much as Adeline," the Elf replied, and Nelaros raised an eyebrow.

"Adeline can fight?" he asked, and Soris let out a sigh – he had let it slip out before realizing that Nelaros didn't know.

"…yes," he admitted softly. "And so can I. A bit," he added. "I…can't let you go alone, and I can't stand by while they have my cousins and betrothed!" Soris exclaimed, and Neria smiled slightly, patting his shoulder.

"There's the famous Tabris temper. Always knew you had it in you, lethallin," Neria said, and Soris looked at her with grateful eyes.

"Alright, but you'll need to be careful. I've…only got some hammers with me, and they're meant for smithing, not fighting," Nelaros explained, looking at his tools. "If I had time, I could _make_ us swords, but we have neither time nor materials for that."

"Please, all of you, listen. I know you are upset, and with good reason…but there is nothing we can do right now," the group heard Valendrian trying to calm down the crowd of agitated Elves. After Nelaros's outburst, they had begun arguing whether they _should_ go and bring the girls back.

"He's right. Running after them will just make matters worse," Elva said, her messy red hair even more disheveled after getting jostled around by the crowd.

"So we do nothing!? They took my sister!" an Elf man exclaimed angrily.

"We need to go after them!" Nelaros growled, marching back through the crowd with a hammer in his hands, glaring at the Elves that cowered around him. Valendrian looked at the angry youth and sighed, crossing his arms.

"Normally, I'd counsel patience. Unfortunately, stories about the Arl's son and his appetites are…most disturbing," the Elder remarked, and Nelaros' scowl deepened. _This has happened before? And no one's **done** anything about it?_

"What kinds of stories?" the fair-haired Elf asked, although he dreaded the answer.

"Last year, the blacksmith's daughter worked as a chambermaid at the Arl's palace," Valendrian began, his voice low. "Local children found her washed up under the dock. She'd been…well…Vaughan had his way with her."

"The servants all said that Vaughan had his men to bring her to his chambers," Dilwyn piped up from nearby, shivering slightly.

"When he was done with the girl, she was killed and disposed of. The garrison said she died later, but we all knew better," Gethon added with disgust.

"Vaughan has never been so bold, but with Arl Urien away, who knows what he thinks he can get away with?" Valendrian asked.

"If he touches any of them, he's _dead_ , nobility or not," Nelaros snarled, his temper rising again as his fingers tightened around the handle of his hammer.

"I'm with you on that," Soris agreed, finding his voice again. He had always been careful to control his temper – his cousins were fiery enough for the three of them – but now, he couldn't stand it any longer. The humans had done enough to them, and he was sick of being pushed around.

"Please, both of you…the focus must be on saving these poor women, not on revenge!" Cyrion urged, and Soris looked at his uncle pleadingly.

"Adeline can handle herself, but she can't fight barehanded against armored guards!" Soris argued, and his uncle sighed, a look of pain on his face at the prospect of losing his daughter.

"But what can we do? We're talking about the Arl's _palace_. Even with the Arl and his knights gone, it'll be guarded," a laborer argued.

"Elder, may I offer a suggestion?" a timid-voiced man asked, and Valendrian nodded for him to speak. He stepped forward, nervously wringing his hands as he felt the eyes of the crowd on him. "I work inside the palace. I could sneak one, perhaps two others in through the servant's entrance. Nobody will notice an extra pair of Elves looking around," he explained.

"You could be in and out before anyone knows the difference," Neria remarked. "I'll come with you and guard the entrance," she added, and Nelaros nodded gratefully.

"I'm with you, of course…but if we run into trouble, we won't be able to talk our way out of it," Soris remarked. They all glanced over as Duncan walked towards them; Nelaros looked the big man up and down, his eyes narrowed in suspicion at the armored human.

"For that, you will need weapons," he said, and Nelaros's eyes widened in surprise. "Allow me to offer you my own saber and crossbow. A man should be able to defend his loved ones properly." Duncan handed Nelaros the sword, and Soris the crossbow.

"I…thank you, ser," Nelaros thanked, bowing his head gratefully.

"Then your path is set. I pray the Maker looks on it with favor," Valendrian sighed.

"You're all insane! The guards will burn our homes down around us!" Elva screeched.

"Enough, Elva. You've had your say. They shall try, for their own honor and the honor of the women. We must trust in the Maker," Valendrian shushed her, and the woman scowled, stomping away angrily.

"I'll make sure the way is clear. When you're ready, meet me at the Alienage gate," the Elf servant said, trotting off.

"Ready to go?" Nelaros asked Neria and Soris.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Soris replied, shaking with mixed excitement and fear.

"Courage, lethallin," Neria assured him, patting him on the shoulder.

oOo

I came-to a while later, groaning faintly and blinking; Shianni was staring at me worriedly, holding my head in her lap as I lay on a cold, stone floor. We were in a dusty storage room, with stacks of crates and old barrels piled up into the corner. Nola was kneeling a little ways off, murmuring the same prayer over and over again. "Maker keep us, Maker protect us, Maker keep us, Maker protect us–" she whispered frantically, rocking back and forth.

"Stop it! You're driving me _insane,_ " Shianni complained, shooting the dark-haired girl a look. "Oh, thank the Maker you've come to. We were so worried," she breathed, watching as I slowly sat up, lightly touching my face where Vaughan had slapped me; it felt numb, and slightly swollen, and I clenched my teeth, my eyes flashing with anger.

"All right, that shem dies," I muttered darkly, glaring at the large, iron door on the wall across from us.

"Glad you've still got some fight in you," Shianni sighed with a sad smile, patting my back. None of the others looked hurt, thankfully, but they were trembling with fear.

"How long was I out?" I asked, and Valora shrugged.

"Hours, I think; we could hear what sounds like a kitchen down the hall – the dinner rush finished a while ago," she replied. "They locked us in here to wait until that… _bastard_ is 'ready for us'," Valora shuddered, hugging herself and staring at the floor.

"We'll kill the first shem that opens the door," I said, getting slowly to my feet and shaking myself off, rolling my shoulders and cracking my neck.

"We're five unarmed women. What makes you think _we_ can kill anyone?" Tialla asked frantically, staring up at my hard expression.

"Who needs weapons?" I replied, popping my knuckles.

"Maker keep us, Maker protect us, Maker keep us, Maker protect us…" Nola started up once more, and Shianni groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Great! Now _this_ again," she muttered in irritation, shaking her head. I walked slowly around the room, trying both of the doors and rummaging through the storage crates to see if there was anything of use. They were nailed shut, and I couldn't pry them open without tools. I groaned with frustration, throwing my hands up when I didn't find anything of use.

"If I had my pocket-knife, I might be able to break the lock, or take off the hinges, but there's nothing here I can use," I admitted, crossing my arms and nervously chewing my lip. This was bad. Very bad. I couldn't see any way out of this that would end well.

"Look, we'll…do what they want, go home, and try to forget this ever happened!" Tialla said, looking towards Nola as the frantic girl continued to pray.

"She's right. It'll be worse if we resist," Valora added.

"It'll be worse if we _don't!_ " Shianni retorted, furious that the others were giving up so quickly. I helped her to her feet, patting her arm lightly.

"I'll get us out of this, cos. I promise," I tried to assure her, but even _she_ was looking doubtful by now. She stared at the heavy, iron-braced doors, a distraught look on her face, and my heart tightened. _What is this world coming to? Is there nothing I can do to protect her?_

"Someone's coming!" Tialla gasped, and we all looked at the door, tensing as we heard the heavy boots of the armed guards.

"If you see an opportunity, take it; scratch out their eyes if you can," I whispered quickly, and the door swung open, a group of guards marching into the room. They wore full medium plate armor, in the Kendells colors – it was as if they were _expecting_ us to fight back, and were taking extra precautions.

"Hello, wenches – we're your escorts to Lord Vaughan's little party," the lead guard sneered, and Nola stood, staring at him in terror.

"Stay away from us!" she cried, and the man drew his sword, cutting her down without a second glance. The girl screamed, and I shivered as she fell, making a dull thump as she hit the floor. Nola's body shuddered and convulsed as she died, blood pouring from a horrible wound across her throat. She lay there, choking on her own blood, her eyes rolling back in her head as she grew still.

"You… _killed_ her!" Tialla wailed, staring at Nola's body. Valora let out a tiny sob, covering her face, and Shianni stared up at the guards with huge eyes, petrified. _Sod sod sod sod,_ my mind was blank as I tried to fumble with ideas, not knowing what I could do – if I tried to fight them, I would end up the same as Nola. But if I _didn't_ fight, I didn't know _what_ was going to happen – would Vaughan just kill us anyway when he was done?

"I suppose that's what happens when you try teaching whores some respect," the guard captain remarked in an uninterested tone, sheathing his blade. "Now, you grab the little flower cowering in the corner. Horace and I'll take the homely bride and the drunk," the man ordered, and the other guards grabbed the girls, dragging them into the hall as they stared blankly ahead, too afraid to resist. "You two, bind the last one. She's the scrapper," he added, pointing at me, and the two guards stepped forward as the girls were taken away.

"Don't worry; we'll be perfect gentlemen," one of the guards said, smiling mockingly at me as the captain left, tossing them some rope.

"Now, you heard the captain. Be a good little wench or you'll end up like your friend, there," the other warned, taking the rope the captain had given him and holding it out towards me. I took a small step back, looking around the room quickly.

"Try it. See what parts you lose first," I threatened, glowering at them.

"Ha! Captain was right; she's a scrapper!" the first guard laughed. _If I can knock something down or cause a distraction, I might be able to get by them – sod, I wish I had a knife right now. I can't use my bare hands against that armor…_

"Uh…hello?" I heard Soris's voice from the hall, and my eyes widened. _What the…? Don't tell me…_

"Oh, look at this. A little Elfling with a stolen sword," the second guard remarked, looking at Soris with contempt as he poked his head around the edge of the door, my cousin's eyes round like saucers as he saw the two men.

"Adeline!" Soris called, sliding the sword across the ground to me. I picked it up, my eyes flashing as I glared at the guards.

"Oh, sod," the first guard said, taking a step back.

I leapt at him with a roar, slamming him against the wall, sliding the blade across his throat and nearly beheading him, ducking quickly as the other took a swing at me with his mace. I bulled into his side, ramming him with my shoulder and knocking the man to the ground, stabbing down into a gap in his armor, under his left pauldron. The guard shouted, and I covered his mouth, stabbing into his neck and silencing him.

I stood, flicking blood off the edge of my blade and looking at my dress, the white lace splattered red with the dark liquid. I glanced up at Soris, who was standing at the door with a crossbow, staring at the dead soldiers and trembling slightly. I sighed; he didn't have the stomach for this sort of thing. His eyes moved carefully around the room, and he glanced down at Nola's body, his face going white as a sheet.

"I…can't believe they killed her!" he murmured, his eyes distraught. "Are you all right? They…didn't hurt you, did they?" Soris asked, hurriedly coming over to me and checking me for injuries.

"No. Just a little shaken, and _very_ pissed off," I replied, shouldering the sword and kicking viciously at one of the dead guards, the partially-severed head detaching itself and rolling across the room. Soris stared at it, looking ill as it came to rest in the corner, the eyes staring blankly up at us.

"Thank the Maker you're safe. Hopefully we can still save the others," Soris breathed, relieved that I was unharmed and trying to fight off the nausea.

"Where'd you get the sword? No one in the Alienage has anything like this," I replied; it was a straight-edged saber with a basket-hilt, strange, glowing blue runes set into the blade's length. I held the blade close to my ear – I swore I could hear a faint humming sound. _This looks like one of the blades Duncan had. Did he give it to Soris?_ I wondered, glancing carefully out into the hall to make sure no more guards were around.

"That Grey Warden, Duncan, gave Nelaros and me this sword and crossbow, but that's all we have," Soris explained, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Nelaros is here?" I exclaimed, and Soris nodded quickly, glancing warily about.

"Yes, he's the reason we're here. He lost it on those who wanted to 'hope for the best'. I…didn't know what to do," Soris admitted, ashamed.

"You're here now. That's what matters," I smiled gently at my cousin, patting his shoulder.

"Thanks. I couldn't let him go alone," Soris replied, taking my hand.

"Did you have to fight your way in?" I asked as we carefully made our way out to the hall, bodies tense and ready to spring into action if we ran into more guards.

"Neria saw what happened, and she and a servant helped us get in; she stayed outside of the estate to keep watch for any more trouble," Soris replied. "Nelaros and I snuck in through a servant's entrance, although Nelaros took down a guard. He's a savage fighter," he added, seeing the sudden grin on my face. "Nelaros is guarding the end of the hall. Let's figure this out with him."

We ran down to the end of the hall, where Nelaros was waiting; he was leaning against the wall with a sword at his hip – probably taken from the dead guard – and he looked up at our approach. "Adeline!" he cried, and I leapt into his arms. "Thank the Maker you're safe," he sighed, hugging me tightly. "Soris _said_ you could handle yourself. I guess that's true," he added, glancing down at the blood on my dress.

"You're…not mad that you weren't told about this?" I asked, and he laughed, shaking his head and pressing his forehead against mine.

"Are you kidding? I'm _thrilled!_ You're safe, and that's all that matters!" he replied excitedly, and I smiled.

"I'm glad you're safe as well," I said, taking his hand as we continued through the castle.

We went down a narrow hall, emerging in the kitchens and pausing. An old man – probably the cook – turned around as he heard the door open, scowling at us. "What's this? I don't recognize you, Elf!" he barked, crossing his arms. He squinted through the dimly lit kitchen, staring at me as he saw the blood-covered wedding gown, and the ornate blade in my hand. "Wait…is that blood?" he asked. "You're bandits! Rebels! Outlaws! The guards will make quick work of–" he began shouting, his face suddenly going slack as a serving Elf wacked him over the head with a large pan, watching the old man slump to the floor.

"You've no idea how long that shem's had it coming," the Elf said, prodding at the unconscious cook with his foot, dropping the pan near the crackling hearth.

"Have you seen a group of Elven maidens?" I asked quickly, and he nodded, pointing to a door that led out to the other hall.

"Yes. Dragged them to Lord Vaughan's quarters, they did. You should hurry if you want to help them," the serving Elf replied, dusting his hands off and hanging his apron by the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm getting out of here before the storm hits," he added, running towards the servant's passage in the larder.

I grabbed a kitchen knife, holding it in my left hand and the saber in my right, twirling the short blade and weighing it in my palm; I preferred to fight with daggers over swords, but I'd make due. We walked into the next room, following the Elf's directions; we stopped at the door as we stumbled into the mess hall, interrupting three guards sitting at the table playing a card game.

"Where did you get a weapon, Elf?" one of the guards demanded, standing and coming over as he spotted me.

"Uh-oh…" Soris mumbled, nervously fingering the crossbow as the guard approached.

"You better talk quick, scum!" another guard ordered, crossing his arms and looking pointedly at me as my fingers tightened on the knife-handle.

"I was…er, he was… Oh, sod it," I stammered out, throwing the kitchen knife at the first guard and striking him in the throat, killing him instantly.

"Maker's breath!" the other guards yelled as I dashed forward, leaping onto the table and stabbing them each in the throat, stepping back to the floor and dusting myself off. I placed the flat of the saber blade lightly along my shoulder, glancing back towards the other two; Soris looked ill, seeing the bodies of the dead guards, but Nelaros was grinning at me, excitement in his eyes – he seemed impressed.

"Shall we?" I asked, looping my arm in his as we continued through the castle.

oooo

We cut a bloody swathe into the Arl's estate, killing every guard that stood against us. Nelaros was a vicious fighter, as Soris had said; he took down two guards at once as they tried to get behind me, laughing as he was splattered with their blood. He seemed thrilled that I was laughing too – we let the madness of our bloodlust take over as we fought, Soris staring meekly after us, calling us a pair of raving lunatics.

"And you said you didn't want to get married," Soris said teasingly, once things had calmed down, and I grinned crookedly, tugging my sword out of the body of a guard.

"Well I'm fine now – I was just nervous is all," I replied, and Nelaros put his arm around my shoulders affectionately. We made our way down the hall, finding the guard captain that had taken the girls earlier. He and a group of guards attacked us before we could even speak, and we took them down, blood splattering the walls and floors. I watched him fall, choking on his blood and staring at me, and my lips curled with cold satisfaction – Nola's murder, at least, was avenged.

By now, my dress was soaked in blood; it was completely red, and the ends of my hair were colored with the stuff – my braid had long since come undone, and my hair whipped about like a flame in the wind. Nelaros was similarly drenched, his face painted with splattered blood in swirling designs, his hair flecked with it. Soris had managed to keep dry, supporting us with crossbow fire from the doors – I preferred it that way; I didn't want him getting hurt. Or getting in my way.

We heard a scream from up ahead, running along the hall and finding a large door. I tried the handle, but it was locked, and another, bloodcurdling scream jolted through me, followed by horrific laughter. The scream was Shianni's. "No! Don't you touch her!" I roared, ramming against the door and kicking at the handle, trying to force it open. The laughs became louder, and the screaming more frantic; Soris and Nelaros charged at the door with me slamming into it once, twice…

A resounding crack echoed through the estate as we broke down the door, and I froze, staring at the scene before me in horror. Vaughan was on top of Shianni, a cruel grin on his face as he forced himself into her, and she shrieked in pain, her arms pinned above her head, too weak to fight. She was covered in blood and bruises, and I screamed at Vaughan, drawing my blade and running at him. He stared up in shock at the sound, and I leapt onto the bed, plowing into him and knocking him to the ground.

The room exploded with the clashing of steel; Nelaros and Soris were fighting one-on-one with each of Vaughan's henchmen, and I darted lightly around as Vaughan attacked me; he had managed to grab a sword from its place over the mantle. He was a good fencer, I had to admit – he must have taken an interest in it at some point, matching each of my attacks without flinching, even while I was using my left hand to try throwing him off. I pressed him, though, trying to wear him out, but I barely put a scratch on him, even while he was completely bare; not that the fight was one-sided in the least – he hardly got a hit on me either.

Too late, I realized that in my blind rage, he had been working us towards a certain direction, and I flinched as he grabbed a chalice off a nearby table, splashing wine into my face and blinding me. "Sod!" I gasped, stumbling backwards as I tried to fend him off, my eyes burning from the wine.

I yelped as I fell over backwards, tripping over my dress, and Vaughan laughed cruelly, raising his blade to finish me. "Adeline!" Nelaros shouted, and I heard him run over, clashing against Vaughan as he protected me. I rubbed at my eyes hurriedly on my bloodied sleeves, screaming as Nelaros cried out – Vaughan ran him through, his blade sticking into the Elf's stomach and out through his back.

"Nelaros!" I cried as he fell, gasping and clutching at his wound. "You _bastard!_ " I shrieked, scrambling to my feet and leaping at Vaughan, the man caught off guard by my sudden ferocity. I slashed at him with all my strength, cutting off his hand and forcing him to drop his blade as he stared at the twitching stump. I roared, enraged, and I slashed at him furiously, tearing the man apart; by the time I had regained my senses, all that was left was a bloody pile of gore.

"Nelaros…" I murmured, kneeling next to my betrothed and gently pulling his head into my lap. He was breathing in short, ragged gasps, and I cringed as I saw the terrible wound on his stomach, the blood soaking into his clothes as it welled out between his fingers.

"Adeline…you're crying…" he breathed, looking up at me with distant eyes, fogged with pain. I hardly knew the man – I didn't even love him – but he had thrown himself in front of a blade to protect me. It was one of the bravest things I had ever seen in my life, and I wept – I wasn't worth dying for. I really wasn't.

"Please…please don't die," I wept, my tears mixing with blood as they dripped onto Nelaros's face. He smiled faintly, raising an arm weakly and wiping tears from my cheek, smudging my face with his blood.

"You're much prettier when you smile. Don't let this take it away…" he sighed, closing his eyes. "I thought…maybe we could be happy together. I could…take you away…where the humans couldn't hurt us…" he coughed out, blood running down from his lips. "Please…please don't be sad…" Nelaros murmured, his voice drifting off as life faded from him.

"Nelaros? Nelaros! Please!" I wailed, putting my hand on his neck, feeling for a pulse – he was gone. "…no…" I whispered, staring at his body, shaking. I glanced up at Soris, who was staring at us sadly. I took a deep breath, wiping away my tears and gently lowering Nelaros to the ground, looking back up at my cousin as he walked over.

"Vaughan's dead…and Nelaros too," he murmured, staring at the bloody mess that was all that remained of the Arl's son. "Tell me we did the right thing, Cousin," he asked, and I shrugged.

"It's a little late for regrets," I remarked, standing and grabbing some sheets from Vaughan's bed, wrapping Nelaros in them and covering his face.

"I…I'm not regretting it…it's just…never mind. I…I'll check the back room for the others. Shianni needs you," Soris replied, nodding towards our cousin. She was lying on the bed, just regaining consciousness; she had fainted during the fight. She looked up at me with big eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks as she sobbed brokenly, surrounded by bloodied sheets.

"D-don't leave me alone…please…please, take me home," she wept, and I sat next to her, pulling her into my arms and gently rubbing her back. She was quivering with pain and fear – her skin was covered in bruises and bite-marks, some of them still wet with blood.

"Everything will be all right Shianni," I murmured, and she shut her eyes, curling into me as she sobbed. I buried my nose in her hair, holding her tight. My heart burned with anger – how could such cruelty exist? And if I hadn't killed Vaughan myself, he probably would have gotten away with a slap on the wrist.

"So much blood. I…I can't stand to look at it. It's…everywhere," she shuddered, her body wracked with sobs. "You killed them, didn't you? You killed them all?" Shianni asked, and I nodded, stroking her ragged hair.

"Like _dogs_ ," I replied, and she let out a shaky breath.

"Good. Good…" she said; her voice was resigned – there was an iciness in it that chilled me to the core. She let out a soft sigh before fainting in my arms, and I stared at her – this was my fault. I should have gotten here faster. I should have done something. _Anything_.

"Is…she going to be all right?" Valora asked quietly as she and Tialla were let out of the small storage closet. Soris stood next to her, gripping her hands tightly as her fingers trembled, wrapping his arm around her narrow shoulders.

"She'll live. How are you holding up?" I asked, propping Shianni into a sitting position and leaning her head against my shoulder. Tialla retrieved Shianni's clothes and set them down gently on the edge of the bed, her expression subdued as she looked at the ground.

"A bit rattled. They said they were…saving us for later. I can't believe you came for us. Thank you," Valora replied, giving me a sad smile as I dressed Shianni, trying to be as gentle as possible – she flinched in her sleep as my hands moved over her bruised skin, and I felt my hatred for Vaughan wash over me with renewed force. _May his soul be tortured in the Fade by demons for all of eternity,_ I cursed, pushing down my anger and grief; now was not the time to fall apart.

"Er…we should go. Soon. As in now," Soris said quickly, and I nodded, standing.

"Good thought. Girls, can you carry Shianni? I'm going to run back and grab the body, and then Soris and I will carry Nelaros and Nola," I said, and Valora and Tialla nodded, kneeling next to Shianni. I held the saber ready, dashing back down the halls quickly, before anyone in the castle noticed, returning with Nola's body, which we also wrapped in a sheet. Shianni had come-to by the time we set off, and Valora and Tialla offered to carry Nola's body so I could guard us, should any more soldiers attack.

"Oh _sod_ ," I heard Soris swear as we made our way towards a side hall, trying to find a discreet way out of the estate. I stared down the other hall, hearing the marching of metal-plated boots.

"Oh sod indeed," I muttered. I looked quickly at our ragged group, seeing the exhaustion and fear on their faces, and I sighed. I handed Shianni Duncan's saber, picking up a blade from one of the fallen guards nearby. "Get out of here. Now," I said, and they all stared at me.

"You're not planning to–" Shianni gasped, staring at me, and I felt my lips tighten into a hard line.

"Shianni, Soris, I love you. I love you and Dad more than anything in this world. But I need you to get out of here _alive_. Please…do this for me," I murmured softly, and they looked at me in silence for a moment before hugging me tightly.

"I love you Adeline. I'll never forget this," Shianni said, tears running down her cheeks as she gripped the handle of Duncan's sword.

"Take out as many bastards as you can, cos," Soris added, patting me on the back, and I grinned, fire in my eyes.

"I plan to. Now get the sod out of here before they see you," I added, baring my teeth and getting into a ready stance. They ran down the hall and disappeared around the corner just as the guards appeared. "Oh bloody _hell_ ," I muttered darkly, nervously gripping the sword; there had to have been a dozen of them, at least, all wearing much heavier armor than the other guards – they must have heard the commotion and had gotten organized while we were fighting Vaughan.

As they approached, I looked between them and dropped the sword, holding my hands in the air in surrender; perhaps I could protect the others this way, by keeping the guards talking long enough so that they could escape. "Where are the others?" a guard demanded, marching up to me.

"There were no others. I'm the only one here," I said firmly, and he crossed his arms, glancing around at the carnage and looking at me doubtfully.

"You expect me to believe that one woman did all of this?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"We're not all so helpless," I remarked, and he let out a quiet sigh, seeing that even if there _were_ others involved, I wasn't going to speak.

"You save many by coming forward. I don't envy your fate, but I applaud your courage," the man said, crossing his arms. "You will wait in the dungeons until the Arl returns; _he_ will decide your fate," he added, and I nodded slightly. I stepped forward, and four guards surrounded me, marching me down to the dungeons. I closed my eyes, letting myself become calm as I accepted what was going to happen to me. _Soris will take care of Shianni…and father will arrange Nelaros's funeral service with the Elder._

oooo

I sat in the darkness, my eyes shut tightly as I wept in silence, murmuring prayers to the Maker to protect those at the Alienage. _I hope they don't go after Soris and the others. That bitch Elva would sell them out in a heartbeat,_ I thought bitterly, standing and biting my lip. I walked over to the cell door, resting my chin between the bars on the window and looking out at the hall. I drew back slightly as I heard a pair of guards talking nearby.

"Why don't we just kill the little knife-eared bitch? She butchered the captain and half the guards in the estate!" I heard someone argue, and another man scoffed.

"And face Arl Kendells's wrath? No. When he returns from Ostagar, he'll see to her. Although…I suppose so long as we keeper her _alive…_ " he trailed off, and the other man chuckled darkly.

"You're right. I wouldn't mind taking a turn with her, once she's been tamed a bit," the other guard replied. I felt the blood drain from my face and I retreated deeper into the cell, heartbeat picking up in fright. _Oh Maker…maybe I **should** have gone down fighting…_ I thought, trying to hold back the anxious tears that prickled at my eyes.

As the night drew on, and the guard on duty began nodding off, I started formulating an escape plan. _If I can escape from here, I might be able to…no. I can't go back to the Alienage. If the guards spotted me getting away, that's the **first** place they'd look, and then Soris might get caught as well. Alright…escape plan…_ I thought, crossing my arms and thinking deeply.

As I leaned against the door, I felt a strange lump along the outer edge of one of my boots. I glanced down, rolling up my dress and running a finger against the inside, feeling a thin metal bit with a slight hook on the edge – it had been nestled into a fold meant for a throwing knife. _Oh you've **got** to be **kidding** me!_ I thought, almost laughing at the absurdity; I pulled out a lock pick, staring at it in the darkness. _Where were **you** when I needed you?_

I knelt by the key-hole, picking the lock as quietly as I could and opening the door very slowly, peeking out through the window to see if the guard would notice. The man was asleep, snoring slightly as he leaned against the wall, and I grinned, closing the door with a faint click and sneaking past him, running up the stairs and back to the main floor of the estate.

I darted into the first room I came across; it must have been servants' quarters, with rows of neat beds along the walls. No one was here – unsurprising, given the commotion Nelaros and I had caused in the estate; the servants would be scrubbing blood from the floors and carpets for hours. I rummaged through the chests by the foot of each bed, finding a rough, cotton dress in my size, and a brown shawl that was large enough to cover my head and shoulders.

I pulled off my bloodied dress and washed my face and hair out in a small basin of water, hiding the ragged wedding gown underneath a servant's bed. I made a face at myself in the mirror, letting out a long sigh before taking a pair of scissors and cutting my hair. It fell about my face in feathery layers, just past my jaw, and I closed my eyes for a moment, stashing the severed strands under the bed with my wedding gown before standing once more. I pulled on the dress and wrapped the shawl around my narrow shoulders, covering my hair before walking back into the hall.

I made my way through the place in silence, sneaking past the guards and pausing by Vaughan's room; the place was dark, and as I popped my head in, I saw his lockbox in the corner. _Oh hell **yes** ,_ I thought, darting in and unlocking the chest, pulling out a purse containing forty sovereigns, and some miscellaneous bits of jewelry. I tucked the purse and jewelry into the pockets along the dress's front, getting out of the estate before anyone noticed me, and I made my way through the dark streets of Denerim, pausing by the Alienage gates.

 _Too risky,_ I thought, shaking my head and running through the back alleyways. There were a few tense moments when I heard guards coming up behind me – I would cover my face and hunch over, pretending to be an elderly woman. When I started coughing like I had black-lung, the guards would give me a wide berth.

I managed to get out of the city without trouble – no one wanted to come close when I coughed and wheezed, thinking I had some sort of plague – and I limped until I was out of sight. I stood on the crest of a faraway hill, looking back towards the city and letting out a quiet breath. "Goodbye Denerim," I murmured, shutting my eyes for a moment before glancing east, behind the city, and watching the sun rising over the sea.

"I promise," I said to the open air, "I'll write to my family as soon as I can." I couldn't bear the thought of them thinking me dead – they had already lost enough today. I placed a hand over my heart, looking down. "Maker…forgive my weakness. I could not save them." Nelaros's ring shone on my finger – I would make a necklace with the gold band when I was able to. "Maker, give me the strength to protect them, so that they will never be hurt again."

I turned, feeling the warmth of the sunrise on my back as my head throbbed, and I fainted, rolling down the hill and into a ditch by the side of the road.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	3. Chapter 3: Tales of a Wanderer

Chpater 3: Tales of a Wanderer

Author note:

Diverging from the in-game story a bit. I always thought that Duncan's assistance was nice (and very convenient) but I was sure that some of the Origin characters could get out of their situations on their own.

Disclaimer - I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

(Day 3 on the road)

Dear Shianni,

I'm sorry you have to learn it this way, but I'm alive. Surprise, I guess? Or…maybe not; the city was probably in uproar after the incident, and my escape probably made that worse. I hope you're alright, and Soris too. Can you…tell Dad I'm sorry? And the Elder, and Soris, and Neria and…and everyone? I should have stopped Vaughan before he took any of us. My actions have hurt you all, and I…can't face you, after I let him harm you like that. I hope that one day, you can forgive me…

Best wishes,

Adeline

oooo

(Day 15 on the road)

Dear Shianni,

It's been a little more than a fortnight since I set out. I won't tell you where I'm headed, in case the guards are looking for me and they intercept this, but I'll describe what I've seen along the way. The world beyond Denerim's gates is…well, a really _weird_ place, to put it bluntly. I joined up with a pair of merchant Dwarves, named Bodahn and Sandal Feddic – Bodahn said he used to run a shop in Orzammar, and adopted Sandal before coming to the surface. The boy is…a bit odd. He keeps saying 'enchantment' over and over again; Bodahn said he thinks Sandal's lyrium addled, but a genius when it comes to crafting. The boy can work an enchantment into nearly anything, given enough time, and he seems quite happy when he's working. I'm sending you a ring that he enchanted – I hope you like it.

Give the others my regards,

Adeline

oOo

Zevran sighed as he sat by the campfire, warming his hands and shivering. While he didn't much mind Ferelden itself – with its dogs and its mud – he hated the weather. It was springtime, and the ground was _still_ coated in a layer of frost each morning. Taliesen strode over to his friend, running a hand through his short, dark hair and sitting down next to him. "Something the matter Zev?" he asked, and the Elf snorted bitterly.

"Oh, no, I am perfectly well and good. I cannot feel my _toes_ , but besides that…" he grumbled, rubbing his hands across his arms as he shifted even closer to the fire; he was nearly in danger of burning himself, he was sitting so near the flames. "I cannot wait to return to Antiva," he added, a pang of homesickness in his voice. He sighed as bitter memories flooded his mind – while he didn't relish the thought of returning to the Crows, he wanted to get out of Ferelden as soon as possible; Ferelden was _her_ homeland, and the fewer things that brought her to mind, the better.

"We can only travel so quickly," Taliesen chuckled slightly. After their last job, they were headed back to Denerim, and from there, planned to take a ship back to Antiva. "How about we visit The Pearl when we get there. Cheer you up, yes?" the man added, and Zevran snorted. While he normally would have agreed, he wasn't very much in the mood for that sort of thing – not after the nightmares all last week.

Before he could respond, the Elf glanced up, narrowing his eyes at the woods. "Did you hear that?" he asked, and Taliesen closed his eyes, listening. Suddenly a shriek pierced the night air, and the Elf leapt to his feet – a woman was screaming in the woods.

"What are you doing?" Taliesen asked, bewildered, staring after Zevran as the olive-skinned Elf grabbed his blades, running towards the sound.

"Rescuing a damsel in distress," he replied glibly, Taliesen grumbling and grabbing his own longsword, following after him. As they ran, they heard more shouting, and the screams became vicious swears that would make a Rivaini sailor blush. "Our lady has quite the barbed tongue," Zevran remarked, sliding into the shadows and looking into a clearing where all the noise was coming from.

A red-haired Elf woman was being attacked by a group of burly men. Two of them lay dead with blades in their chests, and another was gripping his bloodied face and shouting profanity at the woman, pointing at her with the bleeding stumps of his missing index and middle finger. "Let _go_ of me you sodding _bastards!_ " the woman yelled, kicking and scratching furiously as two of the men grabbed her arms and legs, restraining her.

"Hold the little knife-eared bitch down – she needs to learn her place," the wounded man snarled, and the men dragged her to the ground, forcing her to her stomach. Zevran's blood turned to ice as the leader knelt, unbuckling his pants as the woman squealed in pain, the other men forcing her face into the dirt. The assassin let out a furious shout, hurling his knife at the man's head, the blade embedding itself in his eye. As he fell, Zevran leapt into the clearing, Taliesen at his heels, and they cut the other men's throats.

"Are you alright?" Zevran asked as the woman coughed, sitting up and rubbing dirt and tears from her face. She took a few steadying breaths before glancing up at the men – they froze, hearts leaping to their throats. _R…Rinna?_ Zevran thought, glancing quickly at Taliesen, who shook his head slowly.

"Umph, about as 'alright' as you can get, narrowly avoiding getting _raped_ ," the woman muttered harshly, running a hand through her messy red hair. "Sodding shems," she grumbled under her breath, calming down. "Not that I'm ungrateful for your rescue. Thank you," she added, getting shakily to her feet and brushing herself off. "I'm Adeline," she introduced herself with a slight bow of her head, and the two men let out soft breaths, nearly indiscernible as the wind picked up.

"Zevran," Zevran replied, glancing at Taliesen, who remained silent as he looked at the woman.

"The shem doesn't speak?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Surprising." Zevran could hear the bitterness and wariness in her voice as she watched Taliesen cautiously. She moved slowly among the bodies of the bandits, plucking her knives from their corpses and rummaging through their bags, picking out some money and supplies that she tucked into her own bag. "You don't happen to know the way to Orzammar from here, do you?" she asked, and Zevran shrugged.

"Unfortunately not," the Elf man replied, and Adeline sighed. "We have a map in camp, however, if you would like to see," he offered. He saw the flash of suspicion in her eyes again, and she crossed her arms.

"I…think I'll take my chances in the woods," she said.

"And what if there are more men in this group?" Zevran argued, indicating the dead bandits.

"I can handle myself," she retorted.

"Yes, I can see how well you 'handled' yourself," Taliesen spoke up, and Adeline glared at him.

"I wasn't…" she bit off her words, glaring at the ground, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment. "I just… _Fine_ ," she relented sourly. "But I'm _watching_ you," she added as she pointed at Taliesen and Zevran, not trusting either of them. They led her back through the woods towards their camp, where some of the merchants they had been traveling with were playing music and telling stories around the fire. One of the large messenger crows that the men kept let out a loud caw at their return.

As Taliesen retrieved a map from his bag, Zevran looked Adeline up and down slowly, taking a moment to appreciate her figure. She was slender – although a little underweight, he thought – with the build of a rogue; thin but muscular arms, strong legs, and a light frame. What caught Zevran's attention, however, were her eyes. They were intensely green, like emeralds, and they burned into him as she caught him staring, not liking his gaze on her one bit. She shuffled uncomfortably and crossed her arms, muttering something under her breath in what Zevran swore was Elvish. _Interesting,_ he thought, intrigued by this strange traveler.

He also noticed the wound on her leg as she flinched slightly, scowling as his eyes sought out the injury. "Your leg–"

"I can treat it later," Adeline cut him off, crossing her arms. It wasn't a very serious injury, but Zevran didn't want to leave it untreated. When he saw that the woman was going to be stubborn about it, he slipped his arms behind her, lifting her into the air and setting her on the back of a nearby wagon, pulling off her right boot and rolling up her leggings before she could speak. As soon as her backside had touched the cart, she whipped out a blade, holding the tip towards Zevran's chest, keeping him at arm's length. "Touch me and I gut you from nose to naval," she snarled, and the assassin raised his hands, showing he was unarmed.

"Let me treat your wound, at least," Zevran said gently. "I promise, I will not do anything else," he added. Adeline glared at him suspiciously but lowered her knife, sticking it into the wooden cart beside her and watching the man's every move. "So what are you doing heading to Orzammar?" Zevran asked as he tried to ease the tension, "I would hardly call these ideal traveling conditions."

" _I_ don't think that's any of your _business_ ," Adeline remarked, and Zevran bit the corner of his cheek, trying not to smile at her scowl as he wrapped the wound on her thigh – he found her anger more amusing than intimidating, really. If it weren't for the sharpness in her eyes, he might have actually laughed a little.

Once he was finished treating her injury, Zevran held up her boot, handing it to her. His eyes moved over the leather slowly, appreciating the details; the boots were thigh-high, made of fine leather, the designs along the dark-brown material drawing attention to the shape of the legs – and what fine legs they were – Zevran thought, resisting the urge to ask if she needed help putting the boot back on; she might _actually_ have killed him for that.

Taliesen returned with a map of Ferelden shortly after, and Adeline looked it over quickly, taking a small notebook out of her pocket and sketching a miniature version of the region northwest of Lake Calenhad, making a face as she took note of the distance. She thanked them once more before heading off into the night, and Zevran watched her go, glancing back up at Taliesen. "Don't think too deeply on it, Zev. She's…gone. This was just a coincidence," the man sighed, returning to his tent for the night. Zevran ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling very lonely in this strange, cold country.

oOo

(Day 28 on the road)

Dear Shianni,

I met another bunch of weirdoes the other day. Bodahn and I parted ways more than a week ago, and I've been traveling alone ever since. A couple of days ago, though, I ran into a group of traveling merchants. Two men stood out in particular to me; one was a tall, dark-haired human, and the other was an Elf with a tattoo on his left cheek. They seemed a bit sketchy, and I tried not to stare at the crows that were sitting around the wagon when I went to their camp to ask for directions. I think they were Antivans, judging by the accents. The Elf was _staring_ with me the whole time; he looked like he had seen a ghost or something. I've figured out how to get where I'm going by now, and I'll send word once I've reached the place.

Best wishes,

Adeline

oooo

I sat under the light of the moon, staring up at the constellations and letting out a long sigh, sealing up the letter I had finished writing. If I ran into someone heading to Denerim, I would pass it on to them; honestly, I didn't know if _any_ of my letters had reached my family…but it was something to hope for, at least. I lay down, resting my head on my arms and closing my eyes, listening to the crackling fire and the sounds of the spring evening that floated around me.

I thought about many things as I traveled. About my family – how they were, and what had happened after my escape – and about Neria – had she left Denerim once I was gone? – and Daveth – really, where could he be? – but my thoughts always returned to one thing; killing.

Back at the Arl of Denerim's estate, I had killed for the first time. I had killed men, felt their blood spatter across my face, and I loved it. The adrenaline rushing through me made me feel alive – and I wanted more. It was sick. I opened my eyes and held a hand out, looking at it in the darkness – even now, I could almost imagine the smell of blood on my skin; all the perfumes in Orlais and Antiva couldn't wash away my crime. And yet I felt no guilt; those men would have killed me slowly – made me suffer. I had at least killed them fairly quickly.

And Vaughan. Killing Vaughan in a blind rage had brought me no closure after Nelaros' death, and Shianni's violation. It made me feel worse, in a way; he had made me into a monster. He had pulled the demon from within me; all of my pent-up hatred and disgust had gone into destroying him…and yet he lived on within me – I could hear Shianni's screams of terror and Nelaros' cry of pain, and it made my insides burn and throb. And I hated that his memory was what made me stronger – that the rage from it fed my strength.

But I could learn from this, and I had. On the road, I had met humans who had lost everything to bandits, or had their farms in the south invaded by darkspawn. They had been welcoming – it surprised me, and had made me think; maybe not all humans were so bad. It was sad, though, that we all needed to go through such suffering to understand this. Perhaps if I was a man, I would go south and try to join the army at Ostagar. Being an Elf as a servant or messenger there was already dangerous – I had heard horror stories in Denerim about Elves who had served during the Orlesian Occupation – and being a lone Elf woman was even more so. Perhaps I might try there one day, but not now. Not today.

The days and weeks that had followed my escape had come and gone in a blur – most of the time had been spent following the North Road as I trudged west, towards Lake Calenhad and the Frostbacks. I had wept for Nelaros and had prayed for those at the Alienage…but I knew that my tears and prayers did little good on their own. Despite my new outlook towards humans, I felt that I still needed a bit of time to pull myself back together; so I had struck west, towards the largest population of non-humans I knew of – Orzammar. I would have gone south into the Brecilian to find the Dalish, but their clans roamed along seemingly random routs, and I knew I wouldn't last long in the reaches of the haunted forest without a proper guide…or an immense amount of luck.

So I was headed for the city of the Dwarves; there was something about the place that just seemed to… _call_ to me. I had been having strange dreams again, hearing the sweet voice in my head and trying to chase down the source when I became aware of my dream. I could never seem to catch it, though – wherever I went, the voice would move further and further away, fading into the distance as I woke. _Orzammar is the key to this mystery. I can feel it in my bones._

oooo

I traveled through the Frostback Mountains for a few days; the going was tough, and I had to fight off wild animals along the way, but I got a nice wolf-fur cloak out of it, at least. I reached the main gates of Orzammar, pausing and staring up at them in wonder. From the look of the large camp around the grand stone gateway, it seemed that surfacers weren't generally allowed in without special permission. I had managed to convince the gateman to make an exception, telling him that I was a sell-sword come to find my fortune in the Deep Roads. Very romantic.

I began to get nervous, suddenly; going to Orzammar and the Deep Roads would mean being underground. With miles and miles of mountain over my head. The thought of it made me queasy, but I swallowed the nausea, taking a deep breath as the Dwarf on guard duty let me pass. The carved gates rumbled open – pulled slowly by some hidden mechanism, I assumed – and I felt a blast of warm, stale air ruffle my hair as I walked in.

I entered a long, decorated hall dotted with large stone statues, watching as a few Dwarves knelt nearby, murmuring prayers to them. _Oh yes, I forgot – Dwarves have some kind of ancestor worship going on. I guess these are…particularly famous ancestors? Nobility maybe, or heroes,_ I assumed as I passed by, heading to the large doors on the other side of the hall.

"Atrast Valla, surfacer. I'll just ask you not to cause any trouble in the city," a guardsman greeted me by the doors, and I nodded. As I entered the commons of Orzammar, I stopped and stared, hoping my mouth wasn't hanging open; the city spread out along the walls of a giant cavern with houses and shops carved out of the stones. The higher one looked, the more lavish the structures became; I assumed the nobility and royal family lived close to the top. In the center of the cavern were grand statues, carved to look like they were holding up the ceiling, and when I asked what the large building in the center of these statues was, I was told it was called the 'Proving Grounds'.

"Proving Grounds?" I echoed in confusion, and the merchant who I was speaking to shrugged.

"It's a way for warriors to test their might, and gain the ancestors' favor," he replied, and I nodded vaguely, still not quite understanding. _Maybe I'll check it out some time,_ I thought, heading down a side road and leaning against the waist-high stone barricade, propping my elbows up and watching the magma that fell down from the ceiling in long streams, like pillars of molten stone.

I walked into a tavern called Tapsters and was greeted at the door by a Dwarf woman with red hair. "Atrast vala, stranger. You must be one of the Grey Wardens we heard about. Welcome to Tapsters," she said, leaning against one of the giant stone kegs, arms crossed over a stained apron. "I'm Corra, your hostess. How may I serve you?" she asked, and I cocked my head.

"Wait, what's all this about Grey Wardens?" I said, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Huh, so you're not one of them? I guess I should've figured – they usually stay in the Diamond Quarter with the nobles," she remarked.

"Uh…no, I'm not a Grey Warden. I'm just a regular old surfacer…I guess," I replied, and she shrugged. "I'd…um…like to hear a bit about the city," I added, and she gave a small laugh.

"So you come to Tapsters?" she grinned, and I shrugged. "I guess you're not asking for anything _official_ , or you'd be at the Shaperate, but I can certainly give you a mole's-eye view," she added, and I thanked her.

"Are there any places I should see while I'm here?" I asked, and Corra pursed her lips, absently fingering the edge of a cleaning rag that stuck from her apron pocket.

"The nobles stay upstairs except when they're slumming. You'll find the Assembly, the palace, the Shaperate, and plenty of estates up in the Diamond Quarter," she described, and I nodded. "Down from here is just Dust Town or the mines, so my recommendation is 'avoid.' It's not part of the city, just some old tunnels where the casteless build their nests. No one goes there if they can help it," she muttered the last part with a hint of disgust, shaking her head. "But if you want _fun_ , your best bet is the Proving," she added.

"Hmm…do you have rooms here?" I asked, and she nodded, pointing towards a set of stairs in the far corner of the room.

"Spending the night?" she replied and I shrugged.

"Maybe the week. Anywhere I can find work?" I added, and she looked at me oddly.

"You're a bit scrawny for a sell-sword, if that's what you're looking to do," she remarked, seeing the pair of long knives on my belt; I had bought them, and some traveling clothes from Bodahn before we had parted ways.

"I'm good at what I do. Muscle isn't the only thing that makes a mercenary," I replied coolly, and she nodded sagely, seeing the hint of offense in my eyes.

"Well…I suppose you could always try hiring out to some noble as an…exotic bodyguard, or join a Deep Roads expedition. They might be curious – we don't get many Elves down here – but I don't know if they'd hire you, based on appearances alone…" she added, and I shrugged.

"Their loss," I said, and she smiled at my cocky tone. I rented a room for the night, groaning as I unlocked the door and saw a stone bed with a thin sheet. _Oh what the sod. How do the Dwarves_ _ **sleep**_ _on these things?_ I rolled over, thoroughly uncomfortable, and I muttered under my breath, cursing whoever thought this had _ever_ been a good idea.

I woke up stiff and sore the next day, writing a long letter to Shianni – half of it was complaining about how I wouldn't get a decent night's rest on these damned stone beds. _Maybe now that I'm going to be staying in one place for a while, she'll be able to send me letters back. It's been a little more than a month now…I hope everyone at home's alright,_ I thought, looking at the letter in silence. I folded it up, giving it to a surface Dwarf who had set up a stall in the commons, asking him to pass it on to a trade caravan heading for Denerim.

"Now," I said, putting my hands on my hips, "let's see about finding a job."

oooo

Apparently, not just anyone could wander into the Deep Roads, I discovered. I asked a Dwarf on guard duty by the tunnels about it, and all he said was that I'd need a deshyr's permission, or join up with a patrol or private expedition. "So there're darkspawn down there?" I asked, sitting on a tall stone slab and nodding towards the tunnels. I fell a strange… _pull_ , for lack of a better word. The 'call' that brought me to Orzammar was somewhere further into the earth. Somewhere down there – in the Deep Roads.

"Aye. And giant spiders. And deepstalkers," the Dwarf replied, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Deepstalkers? What're those?" I asked and he crossed his arms, glancing at the dark mouth of the tunnel.

"Ugly beasts, they are. Walk on two legs, but they have the head of a worm, and hunt in packs. Even big patrols need to watch out for them; they're not afraid to take on a group their own size," he described, and I tried to picture the creatures.

"City seems rather lively today," I remarked, and the Dwarf made a face at my attempt at small-talk. " _What?_ I can't talk about the _weather_ down here," I laughed, and the guard snorted, slightly amused.

"There's a Proving being held in honor of King Endrin's second son," he explained, and I glanced towards the Proving Grounds, seeing a steady stream of Dwarves entering the place. "Some say it's a bit of a scandal, after what happened last week," he added, and I raised an eyebrow. "Some brand – a casteless Dwarf – got into the Proving, and defeated three of the best warriors in Orzammar. The warrior caste was in uproar," he explained, and I whistled.

"Wow," I murmured, crossing my legs and looking up towards the ceiling of the cave. _So casteless down here are like the Elves in the Alienages up on the surface?_ I mused, feeling badly for them. "So can I just go in the tunnel and kill some darkspawn?" I asked suddenly, and the Dwarves on guard duty all stared at me as if I were mad.

"You…say that the same way you'd say 'I'm running down to the tavern for an ale'," one of the Dwarves said, and I shrugged.

"What? I want to see what it's like – have a look around," I argued, and the Captain rolled his eyes.

"No. I'm not about to let a scrawny Elf lass get herself killed just because she wants to 'see what it's like'," the Captain said firmly, and I crossed my arms.

"Oh come on, _please?_ " I tried, and he glowered at me.

"No," he retorted flatly, and I sighed.

"Ugh, I hope an expedition is hiring," I complained sourly, staring at the dark mouth of the tunnel.

oooo

I sat out by the barricades for the next few days, idly polishing my knives and asking each patrol going out if they would take me along. "By Andraste's flaming _knickers!_ " I exclaimed, after another group refused to take me along. "What is so wrong with me going into the freaking _Deep Roads?_ I'm _never_ going to get hired at this rate," I snorted, and Captain Harney crossed his arms, leaning against a barricade and looking at me.

"Why don't you try on the surface? I'm sure someone's bound to hire you up there," he remarked, and I rolled my eyes.

"I came down here to get _away_ from the surface. I can't just give up after a few rejections," I replied, trying to stay optimistic.

As luck would have it, the very next expedition hired me. I mean, I badgered them until the leader threatened to cut my tongue out if I kept talking, and they weren't going to _pay_ me, but at least I got to go into the Deep Roads. Apparently, Prince Bhelen, the king's youngest son, had hired them to look for something…a place in the Deep Roads called 'Caridin's Cross' or something. That was about all I could get from the Dwarves in the expedition before they started threatening me, so I remained silent for the rest of the way.

We encountered giant spiders and deepstalkers in the tunnels; we were nearly three days in before we fought our first darkspawn. The creatures were ugly, twisted things with yellowish or greyish skin, covered in rash-like growths, blood and war-paint. They had horrible yellow eyes with slit pupils, and long, jagged teeth that were stained yellow and orange. The Dwarves seemed impressed by my ferocity; I was grinning with excitement as I took down my first darkspawn all by myself. "Huh," one of them remarked as I sheathed my blades, "you're pretty good for an Elf."

We made our way through the tunnels, fighting more darkspawn as we went. I suddenly found myself surrounded, getting separated from the rest of the Dwarves as the darkspawn tried to herd me down a side tunnel. I fought viciously, taking them down as they bit and scratched, but when the fighting was over, I found that I was utterly alone, and in near pitch-darkness. The tunnel was strewn with darkspawn corpses, but as I called out, no one answered – the only light in the tunnels was the faint glow of lyrium veins by the ceiling, which cast eerie blue beams down from above; it was like weak moonlight streaming through a canopy of trees.

"Oh sod, oh _sod_ ," I muttered, panic rising in my throat – I didn't like being in the tunnels much to begin with, but now that I was alone, my anxiety began to resurface. "Okay, calm down. I don't want to get even _more_ lost trying to find the others, so maybe I should just head back," I said, taking long, calming breaths. "You…remember how to get back to Orzammar…right?" I asked myself, closing my eyes and thinking. "Er…that way…maybe?" I tried, walking down a semi- familiar tunnel as I tried to back-track.

I wandered through the tunnels for hours, trying to trace my steps. I paused as I came to a wider cave, with the ruins of old buildings and statues carved out of the walls, hearing shouting further off. I ran towards the sound, hoping that maybe it was a patrol that I could return to the city with. Up ahead, fighting off a pair of darkspawn twice his size was a young Dwarf with golden hair and a long, braided beard. He was wearing rags, fighting the darkspawn barehanded, and I let out a yell, drawing my knives and leaping into the fray, helping him take them down.

"Oh, thank the Stone," he gasped, once we had defeated the creatures. "I thought I was done for," he sighed, calming down and looking up at me. "You have my thanks, stranger," he added, giving an elegant bow, and I raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me if this seems rude, but what's an Elf doing down here all alone?" he asked, and I crossed my arms.

"I got separated from the expedition I was working with. And I could ask the same thing. What're you doing in the Deep Roads without arms or armor?" I countered, and he looked up at me in silence for a few moments, letting out a long sigh.

"You've been down here for a while, I suppose?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"The Dwarves I was with say it's been three days since we set out…" I replied, "…but honestly, I can't tell the passing of day into night down here," I admitted.

"Ah, so then you don't know," he sighed, running a hand through his golden beard. He had a very noble air about him, even though he couldn't have been more than a few years older than me. "It…doesn't matter. Call me Duran," he introduced himself, holding out a hand. I shook it, smiling slightly.

"Adeline," I replied, looking at the pair of darkspawn. I crossed my arms, glancing around and seeing freshly-killed deepstalkers strewn about the area as well. "You kill these things with your bare hands?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"I bashed their heads in with a stone. The darkspawn don't go down as easily – I guess they don't like it when you throw rocks at their faces," he chuckled a bit, and I unsheathed one of my blades, handing it to him.

"You don't happen to know the way back to Orzammar, do you?" I questioned, and he pointed over his shoulder, indicating the dark tunnels.

"It's back thataways," he replied.

"So," I said, kneeling down and rolling a deepstalker over with my other knife, "what _are_ you doing down here?" Duran was quiet again, nervously fingering the tip of his beard, a silver ring flashing on it in the faint blue light of the nearby lyrium deposits.

"I'm…looking for the Legion," he replied, his tone slightly guarded.

"The…Legion of the Dead?" I tried, and he nodded. I had seen a few of them on their way to the Deep Roads when I had been waiting for an expedition; the only way they would have let me come with them was if I had joined their ranks…and I liked being considered alive.

"They say that the Legion has been all the way to Bownammar," he explained with big eyes, and I made a face.

"Uh…I guess I'd be impressed if I knew what that was," I said apologetically, and he chuckled slightly, nodding.

"Right, I forgot the surfacers don't remember the place," he shrugged. "Bownammar's the City of the Dead, also known as the Dead Trenches. It was a monument built by the Paragon Caridin hundreds of years ago to honor the Legion. It was overrun by darkspawn, though, and now the place is constantly changing hands between the two forces," he explained, and I nodded.

"Hmm…you know how to get there?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"Not really, no. I'm not exactly in a position to go back to Orzammar, though, so it's my best bet down here," Duran replied, and I raised an eyebrow.

"…you're…a criminal? Exiled, maybe?" I asked, and he flinched at the words. "Hey, no judgment here, friend," I added quickly, "I'm a bit of an outlaw on the surface myself."

"I was framed for a crime I did not commit," he growled, glaring at the darkspawn corpses. "My younger brother betrayed me." I looked at the Dwarf in silence, pacing about the area slowly.

"You know…" I began, and Duran glanced at me, "maybe _I_ can help you find the Legion," I offered, and his eyes lit up.

"I…what would you want in return?" he asked, and I snorted.

"You wound me, good ser! I am doing this out of the kindness of my own heart!" I said melodramatically, grinning at the Dwarf and placing a hand over my heart. "And I'm searching for something in the Deep Roads anyway. I got separated from the rest of the expedition, so I thought it would be safer to return to the city. I remember the way back to the spot where I got separated from them, but after that, we'll be going in blind," I explained, and Duran nodded.

"I've studied maps of the ancient Thaigs before. If we can get to a place I can recognize, I might be able to get us all the way to Bownammar," Duran said, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"Good. Maybe we _won't_ die horribly down here, then," I grinned, kneeling down and unbuckling the armor from one of the darkspawn, the metal breastplate rusty and covered in small spikes. "Here, put this on," I said, and he made a face. "Oh don't be _picky_ about it! This is the only armor we're likely to find, unless we stumble onto a dead warrior's tomb," I reasoned, and Duran sighed.

"Well why don't _you_ wear it? You're awfully frail-looking," he remarked, eyeing the padded leather vest that acted as my armor, and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm an _Elf_ , Duran. We're _all_ rather frail-looking. And besides, I'm a rogue – it'll only slow me down," I replied, watching as he grudgingly buckled on the breastplate.

As we headed back the way that I had come, I noticed Duran watching me from the corner of my eye, and I glanced down at him. "So what's your story? How'd an Elf end up in the Deep Roads?" he asked, and I snorted, smiling slightly at his question.

"I walked," I replied, and he rolled his eyes.

"Oh ha-ha, very clever," he retorted, and I grinned.

"Well I _answered_ the question, didn't I?" I teased, and he sighed.

"Aye, that's true. I suppose that smart mouth of yours is the reason you're an outlaw?" he asked, and I laughed.

"'Course it is! I've got my mother's temper, everyone back home used to say," I replied. "…and since there's nothing much else to do, I _suppose_ I could tell you. But only if you promise to tell me _your_ story once I'm done," I said, and Duran nodded.

"That's fair," he replied, listening as I began.

"Well, I used to live in Denerim. Ah, wait, do you know much about the surface?" I interrupted myself, and Duran shrugged.

"A bit. I know that Denerim is the capital city of Ferelden, and I…know that Elves are treated like our casteless by the humans," he said, and I nodded.

"Saves me some explaining, then. So I grew up in an Alienage. I was…happy enough, I guess – I had family, at least, and a roof over my head. Last month, I was supposed to get married; my cousin and I both were getting married to Elves coming from a city in the north, Highever. During the wedding ceremony, though, the son of a nobleman came down to the Alienage with his friends and carried me, my cousin's bride, and the bridesmaids off," I explained, and Duran's eyes widened.

"I can't imagine the other Elves were pleased. Didn't anyone fight back?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"They're all weak, frightened people, Duran. They don't have the will to fight; not when it's been bred out of them over generations of living in squalor," I sighed. "The only ones who came to rescue us were my cousin, Soris, whose bride had been carried off, and Nelaros, my betrothed. They broke me out of where I was being held – I had been separated from the other girls because I was considered 'dangerous' – and we rescued the others," I continued.

Duran looked up at me quietly for a few moments, seeing the sadness in my eyes. "I don't sense a happy ending to this tale," he murmured, and I nodded.

"Aye. The nobleman put up more of a fight than we expected him to. He splashed wine in my face and blinded me, and while I was down, my betrothed tried to protect me. He…died," I sighed softly, reaching into the collar of my shirt and pulling out a thin leather cord. Looped through it was a perfect gold wedding band, the yellow metal gleaming slightly in the blue light of the tunnels. "This is my wedding band – I pulled it off Nelaros's body." I looked down at the ring as I went quiet, tucking it back into my shirt and patting my heart, where the band rested lightly against my skin. "Anyhow, I murdered the bastard, and held off the castle guards as my cousin and the girls escaped. I was thrown into the dungeon to await my punishment," I continued, and Duran crossed his arms.

"And you escaped, I take it," he remarked, and I nodded.

"Yes. I got out of the city as soon as I could and I traveled here, to Orzammar. I…needed some time away from humans," I sighed, and he pursed his lips.

"That's quite a tale, my friend," he said gently, and I smiled slightly as I saw sympathy in his eyes.

"Thank you Duran. Feels good to tell _someone_ , at least," I breathed, feeling the tightness in my chest that I had held since Denerim loosen slightly. "Now, how 'bout you? I've spilled my guts, now it's your turn," I added with a cheeky grin, and the Dwarf nodded.

"True enough. Well…" he began, crossing his arms, "I'm…Prince Duran Aeducan," he said, and I felt my eyes widen.

" _What?_ " I exclaimed, almost laughing at the absurdity.

"Let me tell the tale, Adeline," he snorted at my interruption, and I nodded.

"Alright," I murmured, seeing that his eyes were very serious.

"The halls of Orzammar run deep, they say, but the blood runs deeper…" he murmured, his voice a deep rumble through the dark tunnels. "I am the second son of Endrin Aeducan. A celebration was held a week ago, in honor of my becoming Orzammar's newest commander. I attended the ceremonies at the palace, where my younger brother, Bhelen, came to me in secret. He told me that our eldest brother, Trian, was planning to kill me, because the Assembly could potentially choose me over him as the next king," he explained, and I raised an eyebrow, confused.

"Wait, being king isn't hereditary for the Dwarves?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"Indeed it is not. A king may choose his successor, but the Assembly of deshyr lords and ladies has the final word. Usually they comply with the king's choice…but it isn't unheard of for the Assembly to choose a different Dwarf as their new king. It could even be a commoner. Orzammar's politics are…rather convoluted," he explained. "Now, my brother Trian was…a pompous _ass_ , but I didn't think he had it in him to _kill_ me. He wasn't very good at being subtle," Duran continued. "Not like little Bhelen. That sneaky bastard could charm a casteless out of his last copper, he could."

"Bhelen told me that Trian feared that I would snatch the throne out from under him. He told me that he had overheard Trian giving his men orders to come after me the next day, when I was to lead an expedition into the Deep Roads to find an artifact – the Shield of Aeducan – in the old Aeducan Thaig. I told Bhelen that Trian wouldn't try anything, and if he did, I'd spot it coming a mile away. I also said that I had no interest in the throne – I was happy to be a commander, and let Trian sit as king. The next day, my second, Gorim Saelac, and I headed the expedition into the Deep Roads…" Duran trailed off with a quiet sigh at the mention of his second.

"Were you very close?" I asked gently, and he nodded, his eyes troubled.

"Aye. He was my best friend…my _brother_. One who _wasn't_ plotting to kill me," he replied, clearing his throat and continuing. "When we got to the Thaig, things went smoothly enough; we killed off any darkspawn and deepstalkers that we encountered along the way. The trouble was when we _got_ to the shield. We were attacked by mercenaries, then, and when we had defeated them, I found Trian's signet ring among their belongings," he murmured, his voice lowering slightly.

"'This can't be happening,' I thought, 'Trian isn't like this'. When we returned to the appointed meeting place with the Shield of Aeducan, Trian was there…lying in a pool of blood with the bodies of his men all around him, still warm," Duran gritted his teeth, his eyes growing cold. "I knelt by my brother's side, horrified…and then Father and Bhelen walked around the corner with their men. There was nothing that I could say to prove my innocence; Trian's blood was on my hands, and the men that were with Gorim and me claimed that we had killed them. They said that they saw us do it."

"They…bore witness to a crime that never happened?" I asked, and Duran nodded, his eyes hard as ice as he glared at the dark tunnel.

"They worked for Bhelen. He set me up to take the blame for Trian's death. We were arrested and dragged back to Orzammar in chains," Duran growled through gritted teeth. "Gorim was exiled to the surface – he can never return to Orzammar – and I have been exiled to the Deep Roads, where I am to walk in darkness for the rest of my days," his voice dropped, and I bit my lip.

"How cruel…" I murmured, and he sighed, shrugging slightly.

"It would have been kinder to execute me then and there. Before Gorim left for the surface, he gave me one last bit of advice; he told me that if I was quick and careful, I might be able to reach the Legion of the Dead, and that they would take me into their ranks," Duran said, his tone hopeful. "He also said that there were Grey Wardens exploring in these tunnels, headed by a man named Duncan – I had met him at the palace the day before, and he had seemed interested in me as a potential recruit. I told him that my duties were in Orzammar, however. I looked for the Grey Wardens on the first day I was down here, but I couldn't find a trace of them. That's why I need to find the Legion. They don't care who you are, or what you've done, so long as you can fight darkspawn," he finished, and I stared at him with wide eyes.

"Wait, you know Duncan?" I exclaimed, and he raised an eyebrow.

"You've heard of him?" he asked, and I nodded.

"He visited the Alienage on the day of my wedding! He said he was looking for something, but he never said what it was," I replied, crossing my arms.

"I suppose we've got more in common than we thought," Duran remarked, and I nodded.

"That we do."

oooo

The two of us became fast friends as we traveled through the Deep Roads; we retraced my steps back to where I had gotten separated from the group, and Duran and I began tracking them, looking for traces of the expedition. We traveled for days, killing darkspawn and catching deepstalkers – they were the only things safe to eat down in the tunnels; even some of the _spiders_ we encountered had the strange Blight sickness that the darkspawn's blood brought.

A week went by in the tunnels, and we came finally to a campsite that had been recently used. "Hey, maybe someone's still nearby!" I exclaimed, and we hurried along, following the trail of fresh darkspawn corpses until we could hear shouting up ahead.

"They seek to breech Orzammar? They're breathing smoke, if we let them breathe at all!" a voice roared, and others echoed a ferocious cry of 'for Orzammar' as a team of armored Dwarves charged a group of darkspawn.

I grinned eagerly, my grip tightening on the pommel of my dagger, and Duran glanced up at me. "You _sure_ you don't have the battle-rage, Adeline?" he joked, smiling crookedly as I let out a laugh.

"Just strong bloodthirstiness, my prince," I replied as we charged, plowing into the darkspawn and tearing them to bits, aiding the legionnaires in their battle.

"Atrast Vala," the lead Dwarf greeted us as the last darkspawn fell, and he tugged his battleaxe from the creature's corpse. "Oh? Is that Prince Duran?" he added as he spotted my companion.

"I am prince no longer. I wish to join the Legion, Kardol," Duran said, and I glanced between the two Dwarves. Kardol looked at him quietly for a long time, seeming to understand, and he nodded.

"I've seen you fight in the Provings, Duran. So long as you can kill darkspawn, you're welcome," the Dwarf said, and Duran bowed his head gratefully.

"Thank you," the prince said, and I smiled.

"You joining too, Elf?" Kardol asked, glancing up at me, and I shrugged.

"Meh, fighting darkspawn's thrilling, but I think I'll be heading back to Orzammar. Say, anyone got a map?" I asked, glancing around. Once I had gotten a map, and one of the Dwarves had given me directions back to Orzammar, I thanked them, walking up to Duran and shaking his hand. "It has been an honor, my friend," I said, and the Dwarf nodded, smiling up at me.

"I'm glad to have met you Adeline. May your ancestors guide your path," he replied, bidding me farewell.

"And you yours." I waved goodbye, traveling back the way we had come, following the directions one of the legionnaires had given me.

oooo

As the days went by, and I neared the city, I began to think about Duncan. _I wonder if he and the other Grey Wardens are still down here? It's been a couple of weeks…_ I twirled my remaining knife absently as I walked; Duran had kept the other to remember me by, and he had given me his signet ring, which I gave an honored place next to Nelaros's wedding band. I hummed a low melody, bored – I already missed Duran's conversations. The Deep Roads were a quiet, lonely place when I wasn't in battle, and I began singing quietly, trying to do something to pass the time.

I sang an old song in Elvish that my mother had once taught me, glancing up as I heard a shrieking sound up ahead. "Ooh, darkspawn? Haven't seen any in a while," I remarked, gripping my knife and trotting forward. I clambered up onto a pile of stones, grinning like a cat as I saw a swarm of darkspawn below, battling a group of three humans.

They were holding their own, but the darkspawn kept coming in from side tunnels; I decided to aid them, leaping into the fight and landing on the shoulders of a large, armored darkspawn, grabbing his head in my arms and twisting hard, snapping the beast's neck. The man who had been battling it stared at me in confusion, and I grinned up at him as the creature toppled forward, and I landed in a crouch. "Don't just _stand_ there! There's darkspawn to kill!" I laughed as I righted myself, patting him hard on the shoulder and plowing into the swarming monsters.

The creatures' shrieks echoed around me, and I lost myself in the heat of combat, laughing and grinning madly as my clothing was splattered with the dark blood. It itched slightly where I touched my skin, and I fought the urge to scratch it, concentrating on the battle. Once the fight was over, I let out a long breath, flicking blood from my blade and sheathing the knife, running a hand through my blood-speckled hair and glancing around at the gathered men.

"Mind telling us who you are?" one of the men asked, still bewildered by my sudden appearance, and I looked at each of their faces, searching for Duncan – these had to have been the Grey Wardens Duran told me about.

"Just a fellow fighter of darkspawn," I replied. I didn't see Duncan around, crossing my arms and shrugging slightly. "Name's Adeline," I added, my tone a little more polite. "You're the Grey Wardens everyone's been talking about, yes?" I asked, and the man nodded. "There doesn't happen to be a Duncan amongst you, is there?"

"…Adeline?" I glanced over my shoulder, spotting Duncan and a pair of Grey Wardens coming down a side tunnel.

"Hello Duncan," I greeted, nodding respectfully to the older man as he approached.

"Everyone in the Alienage thought that you had been executed," he remarked, and I raised an eyebrow.

" _Executed?_ " I almost laughed. "Well, unless I'm a ghost and don't know it yet, I'd have to say those reports lack accuracy," I added with a grin. "I…suppose the garrison might have said that to save face after my escape. Say, Duncan, do you know what happened after I left? Soris didn't get taken by the guards, did he?" I asked, all joking aside.

"Your cousins and the other women returned to the Alienage safely and told us what happened. I went to the Arl's estate to ask after you, but the soldiers said that you had been executed already," Duncan explained, and I let out a quiet breath, biting my knuckle and pacing slowly about.

"I hope my letters have reached them, at least…" I murmured, slightly worried. "So what are you doing down here?" I asked, pausing for a few moments. "Oh, _wow_ , did I really just ask that?" I laughed, nudging at the severed head of a darkspawn with the tip of my boot. "I suppose 'killing darkspawn' is the simplest answer," I added, glancing back up at him.

"I see that you have been occupying your time with similar pursuits," the older Grey Warden remarked, and I smiled.

"Well, at least I'm doing some good down here – thinning out the herd a few heads at a time. It's better than rotting away in some jail cell," I shrugged.

"If you're so eager to fight darkspawn, why not go to Ostagar? There's a Blight coming, and the king needs all the help he can get," one of the other Grey Wardens spoke up, and I let out a laugh.

"Hah, good one. You think they'd take me seriously?" I countered. "Even if I was a _man_ , I'm still an Elf," I added.

"Forgive me, I meant no offense," he murmured, and I shrugged.

"None taken," I replied, glancing back up at Duncan. "I'll…um…be heading back to Orzammar now, I s'pose. Need to wash this stuff off before I get a rash or whatever," I said awkwardly, indicating the blood on my clothes.

"Adeline," Duncan said, and I nodded, "I never told you what business I had when I came to the Alienage," he continued.

"Hmm? Oh, I just assumed you were looking for Elder Valendrian," I replied, and he smiled slightly.

"I came to find recruits. I had hoped to speak to you, but your elder outmaneuvered me; I suspect that this was why your wedding was moved forward – in hopes that I might let you remain. Valendrian did the same thing when I came to recruit your mother," he explained, and I felt excitement flash through me.

"You…wanted to _recruit_ me?" I asked, my eyes wide, and he nodded.

"After the incident with the Arl's son, I went to the estate in the hopes of conscripting you. My offer still stands, should you wish to join us," Duncan said, and I felt a wide grin spread across my face. I barely restrained myself from leaping into the air with excitement.

"I would be honored to join your ranks, Duncan," I smiled, taking his hand as he offered it to me.

"Then we leave for Ostagar immediately."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	4. Chapter 4: The Grey Wardens

Chapter 4: The Grey Wardens

Author note:

I always thought that Alistair had more going on in his head than people gave him credit for – he's a bit of a goofball, but he grew up in a _monastery_ for the Maker's sake, and said he even _enjoyed_ the education.

Disclaimer - I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[Early summer (Bloomingtide)]

Alistair sat by the bonfire as the sun set, eating dinner with the pair of recruits Duncan had brought. He glanced over at the two and observed them carefully, sizing them up. The knight, Ser Jory, was a tall, older fellow with receding red hair and rather pale skin – he was pleasant enough, though when he spoke, he only really talked about two things; his excitement over the Grey Wardens, and his wife, Helena, back in Highever. _If her eyes were any more beautiful you'd think countries would be starting_ _ **wars**_ _over this woman,_ Alistair thought wryly, chewing absently on the stale piece of bread and gazing into the fire.

He glanced over towards Daveth, the tiniest hint of doubt in his eyes – he was a cutpurse Duncan had picked up from Denerim a few months back, when he had been visiting the king to warn him about the Blight. Daveth looked sort of like the Chasind who lived in the Wilds – darker skin, with coarse, pitch-black hair and a lean, but muscular figure. He was an exceptional archer – although he modestly denied this – and very good with knives. He was a criminal…conscripted, as Alistair had been, although Daveth had been saved from the gallows, and not the wrath of the Grand Cleric; Alistair wasn't sure what was worse. Daveth hadn't told anyone much about himself, but from what Alistair could gather, he was a harmless flirt and pickpocket who, with some polishing and guidance, could become an excellent Grey Warden.

 _Don't get your hopes up,_ Alistair reminded himself; Duncan had told him before heading to Orzammar to meet the Dwarf King that while he should keep an eye on the recruits – observe them and perhaps try to put them at ease – he shouldn't get _too_ close. Any of them could die during the Joining, so why should he get too friendly, only to be hurt when his comrades died?

"I hope Duncan returns soon with his recruit. Before I left, I promised Helena I would…"

"Oh shut up about her already!" Daveth laughed, interrupting the knight.

"What, you don't want to hear about the hand-holding and love-letters again?" Alistair asked sarcastically, and Daveth grinned. _Well, didn't expect that!_ The rogue thought, eyeing the Grey Warden oddly. _I thought Templars were supposed to be grumpy, no-nonsense types._

"Hmph, I feel sick already. Or maybe it's just this slop the cook's been giving us. Pff…right now even Shianni's Denerim-rabbit stew would be better," Daveth mumbled the last part under his breath, and Alistair raised an eyebrow.

"Denerim…rabbit stew?" he echoed curiously, and Daveth grinned.

"Made with rats. _Big_ ones, the size of a cat," the rogue laughed at Alistair's pale face.

"Wait…then why is it called _rabbit_ stew?" he asked in confusion, and Daveth smirked.

"Shianni calls them 'rabbits of the city'," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Shianni…is that a friend of yours in Denerim?" Jory asked, listening to the younger men's conversation as he finished his own dinner. It really was rather awful, but it was better than nothing, he supposed.

"Yes…but I was much closer with her cousin. My little tabby-cat," Daveth chuckled at the memory. "I expect she's bawling her eyes out by now, once she's figured out I'm gone for good," he sighed, smiling as he remembered Adeline.

"Oh. Were you two…?" Alistair trailed off awkwardly at Daveth's crooked grin.

"Heh, no. If she ever caught someone saying that, she'd punch them in the face. Elf had a left hook like a bloody _blacksmith_ ," he chuckled.

"I take it this is from experience?" Alistair asked, a hint of teasing in his tone. Despite himself, he had started to like the two recruits, and secretly hoped that they would both survive the Joining.

"Oh, very funny. That's actually how we met," Daveth joked. "We cut the same merchant's purse and he spotted us, and when we escaped, she punched me in the face and called me an idiot for almost getting us caught." He then pointed to his nose, which was slightly crooked; Alistair concluded that it had been broken at some point. "And she _slapped_ me once, too; I think that was worse than the punch. I kissed her, you see, and she slapped me so hard that it broke my nose and knocked me out cold," Daveth chuckled fondly at the memory. "She's funny like that – she was nearly in tears apologizing to me…and when she saw I was fine, she looked like she wanted to slit my throat."

"You…kissed her? Just like that?" Jory asked, bemused.

"Yeah…she said she wasn't interested, but I couldn't help it – I got caught up in the moment after she saved my hide for, what, the third time that week? You'd understand if you saw her – she could make a man's blood boil with just a look," Daveth replied.

"She sounds rather terrifying, in my opinion," Alistair remarked, and Daveth stared at him, a wide grin across his face as he started laughing. He laughed so hard that he nearly fell off the bench they were sitting on, and Alistair and Jory stared at him.

"Oh…oh that's _great!_ " he laughed, shaking his head and wiping a tear from his eye. "She _is_ terrifying…but you'd never be able to tell just by looking at her. Tabby's a small woman – even for an Elf – with hair like a roaring fire and eyes like emeralds. Ah…she really was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen; delicate as a porcelain doll, but with a fire in her fiercer than anything," Daveth sighed, smiling fondly as he remembered his friend.

"You miss her a great deal, then?" Alistair asked, and Daveth nodded slightly.

"Yes. When I'm a Warden, and this Blight is dealt with, maybe I can go back to Denerim and surprise her. Heh, poor girl – probably thinks the garrison caught me," he sighed, and Alistair felt a pang of guilt go through him. _Oh…I hope they make it…_ he thought anxiously, finishing his dinner and heading back to the tent for the eve.

oooo

The next morning, Alistair received a message; the courier handed it to him, said it was from Duncan, and then ran off before he could get a word in. "Huh," Alistair murmured, looking at the letter. It had Duncan's seal on it, and he opened it, finding a short note with recruitment information. _Ah, he's found one,_ Alistair thought, smiling slightly – they needed all the Grey Wardens they could get, at this point. _We haven't had a Dwarf in a while. Not since old Kherek went to his Calling,_ Alistair thought, remembering the old Dwarf with a hint of sadness. _Well, at least they'll know_ _ **something**_ _about Darkspawn. That's more than the other two._ As Alistair read the note, his eyes widened in surprise, slightly puzzled by what he saw.

 _[Alistair,_

 _I've found the recruit I have been searching for; Adeline Tabris, female Elf from Denerim, rogue. Skills – pick-pocketing, lock picking, dual-wielding blades and knife throwing. Description: jaw-length red hair, green eyes, light build. Very skilled in combat, but has a short temper, and is wary around humans. We should return to Ostagar within the next few days._

 _Duncan]_

 _What, an Elf?_ Alistair thought, puzzled. _I thought he was going to Orzammar! Did he…go back to Denerim or something? But why go out of his way like that?_ Alistair folded the note into his pocket with confusion. _And that name and description. Tabris…could Tabby just be a nickname? The description's the same – red hair and green eyes – but it's also fairly vague. And the warning about her temper…Maker's breath, we're going to have our hands full with this one, aren't we?_ Alistair though with chagrin, suppressing a groan. _If she's as skilled as he says, though, I suppose we could suffer a bad temper if it means she's a good fighter. And she's a woman…_

The sudden thought caught the young Templar off guard. He tried not to make a face as he leaned against a tall, carved stone pillar, looking out towards the Wilds. _I've never met a female Grey Warden. The portraits I've seen…they all look rather harsh. Almost angry._ In those paintings, Alistair could tell immediately that the women were powerful warriors. Their stern expressions made him a bit wary, though. _Maybe…that's a result of the Joining? Maybe it affects women differently?_ Alistair thought. _And Duncan said she's wary around humans, too. I guess she's had some bad experiences in the past?_

"So Daveth," Alistair began, finding the recruit after the rogue had been rejected in his propositioning of a female soldier, "what's this…Tabby girl of yours like?"

Daveth crossed his arms as he looked at the Grey warden, biting back a grin at his question. "Why do you want to know?" he asked, and Alistair shrugged.

"Just…curious is all," Alistair replied, trying not to sound awkward. _Wow, that was pathetic. Hopefully he'll humor me,_ the Warden thought. Daveth shrugged, leaning against a moss-covered pillar and smiling slightly.

"I guess I don't see the harm in it. What do you want to know about her?" the rogue questioned, and Alistair thought for a moment.

"Well…like I asked before; what's she like?" Alistair prodded.

"Hmm…" Daveth murmured, resting a hand lightly on his chin. "Well, you've gathered that she has quite the temper," the rogue began, and Alistair nodded slightly, "but really, her bark's worse than her bite; she's a real sweetheart when you get to know her. That is, unless you get her _really_ mad… Which is actually harder to do than you'd think," Daveth admitted, chuckling slightly. "She also doesn't like humans much. I'm the only one she really got friendly with, and even then, she liked to call me a useless son-of-a-whore." Daveth laughed at Alistair's look of chagrin.

"Maker's breath, she sounds…" he trailed off, catching his words as he was about to say 'awful'. _Alright. Steer clear of this one,_ he made a note to himself. "…interesting."

"Aw, she's not so bad, really," Daveth replied, guessing the original direction of Alistair's comment. "If she could hear you, I think her feelings would be hurt," he added teasingly, noticing the strange look in Alistair's eyes as the Templar pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. _Wonder why he's so concerned? It's not like he's ever going to_ _ **meet**_ _her_.

"Alright, I think my curiosity is sated," Alistair said, and Daveth shrugged, watching the Grey Warden go. "Ah, right," Alistair added, turning back, "Duncan should be back with the new recruit in a few days, if the weather holds."

"About bloody time," Daveth snorted, "I'm beginning you cooked up this ritual just for our benefit. So who's the recruit?" the rogue added.

"Duncan didn't say much. She's a woman though. That'll be interesting," Alistair remarked, and Daveth raise an eyebrow.

"Now why'd you have to tell me that?" the rogue laughed. "Now I'll be hoping for some comely lass with poor eyesight," he joked, and Alistair rolled his eyes.

oooo

Alistair wandered the camp the next day as he tried not to think too much about the new recruit. _If it's Daveth's friend, 'Tabby'…truth be told, I'm a little nervous now,_ he thought. He glanced up, barely suppressing a groan; the Revered Mother was sweeping regally towards him – no doubt she wanted something. _Great._ _ **This**_ _is a disaster waiting to happen._

"Alistair, I need you to deliver a message to one of those _mages_ ," she spat the word with such venom that Alistair almost flinched.

"Isn't that was messengers are for?" Alistair asked innocently. The woman's withering look made him bite his tongue, and he nodded, glancing down. _Right. No smart comments to priests,_ he thought bitterly, half expecting the woman to rap his knuckles with her cane.

His time at the monastery had been like a living hell – he had been utterly alone, with attacks coming in from all sides; the priests, the older Templars…even the initiates that were his age or _younger_ had despised and bullied him. 'Troublemaker' the priests and Templars had called him, although his once short temper had been 'corrected' after he had been caught beating the hell out of some of those who had bullied him – it had been in self-defense, but the priests didn't care to let him explain himself. It wasn't as if he didn't know the reason Eamon had sent him away – he _did_ know…and he hated it. He hated how it had completely shaped his life, and he hoped that in becoming a Grey Warden, he could take charge of himself for once.

Alistair tried not to look too bitter as he listened to the Revered Mother's message, her cane thumping into the ground after every few words for emphasis. "Tell that mage, Joric, that I desire his presence," the woman said, sweeping off before Alistair could ask what she could possibly want with the mage, other than to pointlessly bicker with and antagonize the man.

"Oh…this'll be fun," he groaned, not anxious to meet the mage.

oOo

We went south through the hinterlands as we made our way to Ostagar. Duncan seemed amused by the look of wonder in my eyes when we passed by Lake Calenhad – I had seen it on the way to Orzammar, but I was still amazed by how large it was. Duncan gave me the strange, silver saber with blue runes that I had used back in Denerim; when I argued that it was far too valuable for me to have, he insisted that I keep it, telling me that I needed to have more than just a knife to defend myself with, no matter how capable I was.

The other Grey Wardens were kind to me, not forcing me to speak if I didn't want to, and eventually, I began to trust them – the first few days of our trip, I had been following Duncan around, a little intimidated by the other men, to tell the truth. Because of this habit, they had taken to calling me 'kitten', much to my chagrin…but I could see that it was an affectionate nickname, more than a joke. I was the youngest one in the group, and after a while, I felt a little less jumpy around them. They even bought me some armor in a village along the way; some thick, black leggings, a white, cotton shirt, and a padded leather vest and gloves; they had seen my fighting style when Duncan had us start sparring – wanting to test my abilities, I assumed – and had picked out protective armor that was light, and wouldn't hinder my movements.

"So am I _really_ the youngest out of all of you?" I asked curiously as we walked one day. We were heading along a small beaten path that ran parallel to the Imperial Highway – a shortcut, Kevan had said; he grew up in a village near here, and knew all sorts of ways through the Wilds.

"Well that depends," Fionn countered, "how old are you?"

"Twenty – my naming day's in Firstfall," I replied, and he seemed to think for a moment. He paused as he saw a flush rising in my cheeks, and he cocked an eyebrow. "…on Satinalia," I added reluctantly, and the Wardens started laughing, grinning at me.

"You get one hell of a naming day party, eh?" Kevan chuckled, and I smiled slightly.

"My friends and I used to climb up the buildings and celebrate from Denerim's rooftops," I sighed, smiling fondly at the memory.

"Well…" Fionn remarked, smiling slightly, "I think you're still the youngest of us – Alistair's your age, but his naming day's in the summer, I recall him saying." I glanced up at him curiously – I hadn't heard this name before.

"Alistair?" I repeated, and he nodded.

"He's the junior member of our Order. Nice kid – he's a bit shy, but you'll like him," Kevan assured me, and I smiled.

"I look forward to meeting everyone," I replied.

oooo

As we neared Ostagar, I grew excited; ruined structures rose high above my head, the remains of the ancient Tevinter Imperium dotting the swampy landscape. The Wilds were vast, the terrain ranging from mountains to marshland, all covered in a thick growth of dark pine trees. I could feel a sinister presence deep in the Wilds, though; it made my skin crawl, but when I remarked on this, Duncan and the other Grey Wardens gave me odd looks, not saying anything.

"I need to say something to you, Adeline," Duncan said, as we made our way down a dirt road; I could see Ostagar in the distance, perhaps only a few minutes away. The other Grey Wardens had gone ahead of us and down another path, to a separate camp further down in the valley.

"Yes Duncan?" I replied.

"You are a worthy and skilled recruit, and I know of your talent with sleight of hand. That is a good thing; Grey Wardens use a diverse range of skills and tools to accomplish their missions," he began, and I smiled slightly, sensing where this was going; I had been picking everyone's pockets in camp without paying attention – mostly out of habit – and had apologized furiously once I had realized what I had done, much to everyone's amusement.

Evidently, Duncan thought this was a fairly useful skill to possess, being a rogue himself; he had even said that at their heart, every rogue was a bit of a thief. "But the law is very hard on thieves," he continued, his tone firm. "Ferelden still bears mistrust towards our order, so practice these skills with caution. Your standing as a Warden will not always help you," he warned, and I nodded.

"But I need to practice to get better," I argued playfully, and he smiled faintly.

"Certainly," he chuckled. "Just don't get caught."

oooo

"The king's forces have clashed with the darkspawn several times, but here is where the bulk of the horde will show itself. There are only a few Grey Wardens within Ferelden at the moment, but all of us are here now," Duncan explained as we neared Ostagar, and I nodded; I was a bit excited to meet the other Wardens – those who _hadn't_ been with Duncan in Orzammar, and had remained at Ostagar with the king's forces.

"Ho there, Duncan!" a light voice called from up ahead, and I shaded my eyes – someone in blindingly bright gold armor was walking down the path towards us, flanked by a pair of armed guards. The man had shining blonde hair that flowed over his shoulders, some of it tied in a pair of braids that met behind his head. He grinned at Duncan as he walked over to us, and the Grey Warden looked at him with surprise.

"King Cailan? I didn't expect–"

"A royal welcome? I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun!" the king grinned, and Duncan smiled at his enthusiasm.

"Not if I could help it, your Majesty," Duncan replied.

"Then I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all! Glorious! The other Wardens told me you've found a promising recruit. I take it this is she?" the king continued, glancing at me curiously with his bright eyes. His enthusiasm was contagious, and I couldn't help but give him a small smile, bowing politely.

"Allow me to introduce you, your Majesty," Duncan said, motioning for me to step forward.

"No need to be so formal, Duncan. We'll be shedding blood together, after all," he chuckled, glancing at me. "Ho there, friend! Might I know your name?" the king asked, his eyes bright with curiosity. He reminded me of an excited puppy, or a young boy who had gotten his first sword.

"I am Adeline Tabris, your Majesty," I replied.

"Pleased to meet you! The Grey Wardens are desperate to bolster their numbers, and I, for one, am glad to help them," the king grinned, shaking my hand warmly. "I see you're an Elf, friend. From where do you hail?" he asked curiously, and I shrugged. _Oh, really? I thought I was a Dwarf after all the time I've spent in Orzammar,_ I thought, trying to keep my sarcasm in check; I was speaking to the _king,_ after all. Although…maybe he was the type who liked jokes, judging by his sunny disposition.

"I am from Denerim, your Majesty," I replied politely.

"As am I! Though I've not been in the palace for some time. Do you come from the Alienage?" he asked, and I nodded. "Tell me, how is it there? My guards all but forbid me going there," he prodded, and I tried not to make a face.

"It…um…it's not…pleasant," I warned.

"Oh? Anything in particular?" he asked, not seeming concerned by my warning.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," I muttered, and the king's eyes flashed briefly in amusement. "Children run about in rags…sick and elderly are left to die in the streets…the sons of the noblemen come into the Alienage and kick us around for entertainment…" I shrugged weakly, and the king sighed as the news sobered him, crossing his arms at my wary expression.

"Things will change once we defeat the darkspawn; in the Alienages, and all through Ferelden. For now, we must attend to war," Cailan said, and I nodded. "Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Ostagar. The Wardens will benefit greatly with you in their ranks," he added, and I smiled faintly.

"You're too kind, your Majesty," I replied.

"I'm sorry to cut this short, but I should return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies," King Cailan sighed dramatically, and I bit back an amused grin.

"Your uncle sends his greetings and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week," Duncan added.

"Ha! Eamon just wants in on the glory. We've won three battles against these monsters and tomorrow should be no different," King Cailan said with confidence.

"You sound quite confident, my king," I remarked, surprised – with all of Duncan's warnings, I'd have thought half of Ferelden would have been consumed by the Blight by now.

" _Over_ confident, some would say. Right, Duncan?" he laughed, and Duncan looked at the eager young king with a hint of concern.

"Your Majesty, I'm not certain the Blight can be ended quite as…quickly as you might wish," he cautioned, trying to temper the king's spirit.

"I'm not even sure this _is_ a true Blight. There are plenty of darkspawn on the field, but alas, we've seen no sign of an archdemon," the king said.

"Disappointed, your Majesty?" Duncan asked, and the king sighed.

"I'd hoped for a war like in the tales! A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god! But I suppose this will have to do," King Cailan said, turning back to face us. "I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell, Grey Wardens!" he waved, heading off with his guards at his heels, his armor blinding us again as sunlight streamed through the ruined pillars that bordered the road.

We watched him go, and Duncan glanced at me as I let out a tiny snicker, amused by the king's dramatic nature. "What the king said is true. They've won several battles against the darkspawn here," Duncan admitted, crossing his arms.

"He didn't seem to take the darkspawn very seriously," I replied, and he nodded.

"True," Duncan said, motioning for us to continue walking. "Despite the victories so far, the darkspawn horde grows larger with each passing day. By now, they look to outnumber us," he said ominously. "I know there is an archdemon behind this, but I cannot ask the king to act solely on my feeling," Duncan sighed, and I glanced up at the sky, knitting my fingers together and placing them behind my head as we walked.

"What would you have him do?" I asked.

"Wait for reinforcements. We sent a call out west to the Grey Wardens of Orlais, but it will be many weeks before they can join us," he replied. "Our numbers in Ferelden are too few. We must do what we can and look to Teyrn Loghain to make up the difference. To that end, we should proceed with the Joining ritual without delay," Duncan added.

"Joining ritual? What do you mean?" I asked, confused; Duncan hadn't mentioned any ritual before now.

"Every recruit must go through a secret ritual we call the Joining in order to become a Grey Warden," Duncan explained. "The ritual is brief, but some preparation is required. We must begin soon; fortunately we have arrived earlier than planned – the horde should not arrive for another two days," he added, and I nodded; I had heard him and the other Grey Wardens discussing the location of the darkspawn horde in the Wilds on our way to Ostagar.

"Why is this ritual so secret?" I asked curiously, and Duncan was quiet for a moment, looking into my eyes, a hint of wariness reflected in his.

"The Joining is dangerous. I cannot speak more of it except to say that you will learn all in good time. Until then, you must trust that what is done is necessary," he answered vaguely, and I made a face, shrugging.

"Alright. So am I the only recruit you have?" I asked, and Duncan shook his head.

"No, there are two other recruits here already. They have been waiting for us to arrive," he replied.

"Is there anything you need me to do?" I added, glancing back up at him.

"Feel free to explore the camp here as you wish. All I ask is that you do not leave it for the time being," Duncan instructed, and I nodded. "There is another Grey Warden in the camp by the name of Alistair. When you are ready, seek him out and tell him it's time to summon the other recruits. Until then, I have business I must attend to. You may find me at the Grey Warden tent on the other side of this bridge, should you need to," Duncan said finally, heading off towards the camp. I watched him go, looking up at the soaring architecture with a grin before following along, admiring the sprawling ruins of Ostagar.

Before I went to the main camp, however, I glanced back at the tall tower a little ways behind me, trotting over to a large barricade and looking up at the structure curiously – it looked like Dwarven architecture, actually. A guard was leaning against the barricade, nodding to me in greeting as I approached. "The Tower of Ishal is off-limits. The men stationed inside are securing it now," he informed me, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Why is the tower off-limits, exactly?" I asked curiously, and the man pointed towards the main camp.

"By orders of Teyrn Loghain. The tower is being secured by his men to be used during battle. I'm told they discovered some lower chambers, and they don't know how far down they go. So for now, everyone's to stay out," he replied.

"Lower chambers?" I echoed, and he shrugged.

"I didn't see anything like that when I was there, but who knows?" he said, not seeming overly concerned.

"So what _is_ the Tower of Ishal?" I asked; it was gigantic, soaring over the rest of Ostagar like a great beacon.

"I think they used it once to watch for Wilders coming out of the forest," he replied, and I pursed my lips. "It's Dwarven make – probably why it's still standing," he added, and I nodded, having assumed as much – I had _thought_ that the style of the building looked familiar.

"Huh…" I murmured. I bade him good day, not wanting to bother the man, and I headed back to the main encampment. I explored camp for a while, lining up with some soldiers for lunch, drinking down the thick potato soup in a few gulps and gnawing on the rock-hard piece of bread as I wandered around the tents. "This place is huge…" I breathed, staring around the ruins as I walked through the camp, my eyes bright with excitement.

As I passed by a large green tent with an unfamiliar crest on it, I paused, watching as an older man in ornate armor emerged, speaking to one of the guards and looking around impatiently. He had mid-length, pitch-black hair, and a perpetual scowl on his face. He spotted me watching him, and I tried not to quail under his intense gaze.

"Ah, you are Duncan's new Grey Warden, I assume," he remarked, and I approached him carefully, bobbing my head politely; he had an air about him that commanded respect.

"Er, yes, ser…but how do you…?" I trailed off as the man crossed his arms, nodding towards the large gold and white tent that was set up across from his.

"His majesty could not contain his excitement after your meeting. How could I _not_ hear about you?" he replied, and I detected hint of sarcasm in his tone. "Cailan's fascination with the Wardens goes beyond the ordinary. Are you aware his father brought your order back to Ferelden?" the man asked, and I nodded.

"Yes, I've heard that, ser," I answered.

"Maric respected the Grey Wardens. They have an honored place in the hearts of our people. But Maric would have understood that it takes more than legends to win a battle. That's not an argument I'll repeat here," the man said. "You're pretty for a Grey Warden. Don't let anyone tell you that you don't belong. The first Warden Maric brought to Ferelden was a woman. Best warrior I've ever seen," he added in a lighter tone, and I had to control my surprise at his compliment. "I don't suppose you'll be riding into the thick of battle with the rest of your fellows, will you?" he asked.

"I hope not. A few darkspawn I can handle, but I know my limits – charging into the main bulk would be suicide for someone my size," I replied.

"You are wiser than you look," the man remarked. "Now I must return to my task. Pray that our king proves amenable to wisdom, if you're the praying sort."

"And if he doesn't?" I asked.

"Then simply pray," the man replied, returning to his tent.

I explored the area past the royal enclave and the Grey Warden tent, wandering around by a large wooden gate. When I asked where it went, the guard told me that it led out to the Wilds, and that no one was allowed outside without permission. I nodded, returning to the path and heading back towards the main clearing, where large pillars and statues surrounded a crackling fire.

I paused as I walked by the kennels, seeing a few strange, wild looking men, all with mabari hounds. The hounds were painted with…some sort of thick paste, I thought, that gave of a heavy, musky scent. "We are almost ready to scout the Wilds. With luck, we'll slaughter a few darkspawn! Ha!" I heard one of the men say, and he glanced over, spotting my curious look at the painted dogs. "Maker's breath – another Elf. What do you want?" the man asked brusquely, and I raised an eyebrow at his tone.

"Got a problem with me?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Not in particular, except for your kind being so thin-boned. You make good messengers sometimes," the man replied, and I felt my eyelid twitch as I tried to control my temper. "Is there something you wanted? We have no time for idle chatter," he added, glancing down at his mabari as it looked up at me, barking.

"You don't look like the other soldiers in the army," I remarked, and he snorted.

"We aren't. We are Ash Warriors," the man replied, and I raised an eyebrow at him. "Our training has been passed down since Luthias the Dwarfson first harnessed the battle-rage of the Dwarves. It is an old tale," he explained.

I shrugged when he said nothing else, nodding towards his mabari. "Can I ask something?" I began and he made a face – he was getting annoyed at my pestering, it seemed, but he nodded. "Why have you painted your dogs?"

"They use scent to distinguish us from our enemies," he began, "but the blood of battle can confuse them. So we paint ourselves with kaddis, which overpowers the blood, and also paint our hounds, so they know we are the same," he explained, and I nodded – that was why each man and dog had matching paint on them. I let the man return to his preparations, asking around for the Grey Warden I was supposed to meet with.

"You, Elf!" Someone shouted, and I jumped – a tall man carrying a large bundle of arrows came over to me, thrusting them into my arms. "Deliver that to Ser Darren – he's been waiting all day in the northern camp," he ordered, and I stared at him incredulously.

"Wait, hold on – I'm not your bloody–" the man headed off before I could finish, and I made a face. I let out a frustrated groan, scowling at the arrows and walking towards the north section of camp, heading up past the kennels and spotting some knights gathered around a priest, listening to her prayers. A soldier was blocking the way to the north camp, and I handed him the arrows, swearing under my breath – if I saw that man again, I'd give him a good punch across the face.

A tall knight with receding red hair and a strong jaw spotted me as I headed back, looking at me curiously for a few moments. "Um…hello?" I greeted, unsure of why he was staring at me. _I swear, if you ask me to deliver something…_

"Greetings. You must be the third recruit we've heard about?" he asked, and I raised an eyebrow, caught off guard.

"Third recruit…you mean for the Grey Wardens?" I replied, and he nodded. "I am; my name is Adeline. You've heard about me?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"Not a great deal. We've been waiting for your arrival, though," he admitted. "Ser Jory is my name. I hail from Redcliffe, where I served as knight under the command of Arl Eamon," he introduced himself. "I wasn't aware Elves could join the Grey Wardens. Those camped in the valley are all human," he added, looking at me curiously.

"Do you have a problem with that?" I asked, furrowing my brow slightly.

"No. Clearly, the Grey Wardens pick their recruits on their merits," Jory replied quickly, seeing the slight hint of anger in my eyes. "I hope we're both lucky enough to eventually join the Wardens. Is it not thrilling to be given that chance?" he asked, and I shrugged, calming down.

"I'm curious about the Joining ritual," I remarked, and he nodded.

"As am I. Has anyone told you about it?" he asked, and I shook my head.

"No. I only learned about it today, actually," I replied. "It's all a big secret, apparently."

"I never heard of such a ritual. I had no idea there were more tests after getting recruited," Ser Jory said.

"Neither did I," I replied with a shrug.

"I suppose since you're finally here I'd best get back to Duncan. I shall see you there," he waved, heading off to find Duncan. I followed him down the path, watching as he made his way towards the Grey Warden's tent.

A familiar voice nearby caught my attention, and I looked around. "Is that…? It _can't_ be!" I wondered, following the voice.

"So…any last wishes I can help fulfill before you head into battle?" I heard the voice say, and I glanced over as I neared the quartermaster, spotting a lanky, tan-skinned man with dark hair and a goatee, flirting with a blonde female soldier. She was standing, glaring at him with a look of disdain, but the man didn't seem to be put off in the slightest – knowing him, he took it as her playing hard to get. "Life is fleeting, you know. That pretty face could be decorating some darkspawn spear in a few days," he tried, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Shall I take that quiet glare as a no? Ah, well. Too bad," the man sighed, watching her as she strode off, ignoring his smirk.

" _Daveth?_ " I asked, incredulously, and he glanced over, his eyes widening. "It _is_ you!" I grinned, walking over and clasping his arm.

"Tabby? What're _you_ doing here?" Daveth grinned, looking me over. "You didn't come looking for me, did you?" he added with a smirk, and I rolled my eyes.

"Psh, you _wish_ ," I snorted, smiling up at him. "What _happened_ to you? You disappeared a few months ago without a word – I thought the garrison had finally caught you," I said, and he smiled, shrugging at me.

"They did, in a way. There's this old bugger, a Grey Warden called Duncan, who recruited me into the Wardens. I cut his purse while he was standing in a crowd. He grabs my wrist, but I squirm out and bolt – the old bugger can run, but the garrison caught me first," Daveth explained, and my eyes widened. _Wait…so_ _ **he's**_ _a recruit too?_ "Duncan stopped them; invoked the Right of Conscription. I gave the garrison the finger while I was walking away," he added, and I laughed.

"Guess Duncan's got a taste for street rats," I grinned, and Daveth raised an eyebrow.

"Wait… _you're_ the last recruit?" he asked, and I nodded. "Hmm…so what'd you do?" he added, and I shrugged.

"Why couldn't Duncan have just recruited me? He doesn't conscript _everyone_ ," I replied innocently, and Daveth rolled his eyes at me.

"Hah, there's my Tabby – you were always a little glory-monger," he teased. "Unless…did you finally snap and kill someone?" he asked, and I snorted.

"Yes. That's exactly it. I murdered some nobleman's brat in a fit of mad rage," I replied with a grin, and he smiled.

"I always knew you had it in you," he joked.

"So, you've been here longer than I have – know anything about this mysterious ritual I hear we have to go through?" I asked, and Daveth glanced around.

"Well…I happened to be sneaking around camp last night, see, and I heard a couple of Grey Wardens talking. So I listen in for a bit," Daveth said in an undertone, tapping the side of his nose knowingly. " _I'm_ thinking they plan to send us into the Wilds," he explained.

"Didn't you used to tell me that there were barbarians in there?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Chasind barbarians, yes. Cannibals. And _witches_ , too! My village isn't far, and I grew up on tales about the Wilds. Even been in there a few times…scary place," he said in a spooky voice.

"Hmm…" I said, crossing my arms, "why would they send us into the forest, then, if it's so dangerous?" Daveth shrugged, nervously fingering the edge of his leather belt.

"Sounds like some kind of test. Maybe we'll hunt us a souvenir or two," he chuckled. "It's all too secretive for me. Makes my nose twitch," he added, scratching his chin.

"Well, it'll be good to have you watching my back, at least," I replied, and he chuckled again.

"Mm-hmm, always have," he winked, and I rolled my eyes as his gaze lingered shamelessly on my hips. "Anyway, I expect it's time to get back to Duncan. That's where I'll be, if you need me for anything Tabby," he waved, heading off.

"Ah, wait!" I called, and he paused. "Have you seen a guy named Alistair? Duncan sent me to look for him," I said, and he nodded, pointing up towards an old temple, just past the quartermaster and the mage's camp.

"I saw him run up that way. Blonde fellow in splint-mail – can't miss him," he described, and I nodded, following his directions and going to the temple. Grand, carved pillars arched overhead as I walked through the remains of the ancient structure, statues of warriors bearing swords or shields standing at the pillars' bases. I paused as I reached an open area, leaning against one of the stone pillars as I watched an argument unfold. There was a mage in colorful robes arguing with a tall, blonde-haired man in splint-mail.

The armored man was younger, perhaps around my age, with tawny hair that stuck up a bit in the front, and a short goatee. His brown eyes watched the mage carefully, and his tone was wary as the older man snorted in annoyance. _So I guess that's Alistair?_ I assumed, watching the exchange. I knew it wasn't polite to eavesdrop…but I couldn't help myself.

oOo

"What is it now? Haven't the Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?" The mage asked, his tone annoyed and condescending. He stood with his arms crossed, his thick, pouchy jaw tight as he scowled, his dark eyes narrowed in annoyance. _Ugh…great. He was already annoyed to begin with,_ Alistair thought, trying to be polite. He had found Joric preparing something in the temple; Alistair thought that maybe it was for the Joining, but that couldn't be right – Duncan and the others weren't supposed to be back for another day.

"I…simply came to deliver a message from the Revered Mother, ser mage. She desires your presence," Alistair replied. _Now_ _ **why**_ _she desires your presence is beyond me. She's probably just doing this to harass us both,_ Alistair guessed. It wouldn't be the first time something like that had happened to him.

"What her Reverence 'desires' is of no concern to me! I am busy helping the Grey Wardens – by the king's orders, I might add!" the mage barked, annoyed, and Alistair shrugged.

"Should I have asked her to write a note?" he asked, a hint of cheek in his voice, and he glanced slightly to the side as he heard a soft snort of amusement, vaguely aware that someone was nearby. _Oh lovely. I've got an_ _ **audience**_ _now, too,_ he thought with chagrin. _Thank the Maker – I thought I was going to_ _ **privately**_ _make an ass of myself._

"Tell her I will _not_ be harassed in this manner!" the mage growled, his temper flaring, and Alistair crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing slightly. _What did I ever do to you? Maker's breath, did you roll over and find a_ _ **demon**_ _hiding under your pallet or something?_

"Yes, _I_ was harassing _you_ by delivering a message," Alistair retorted, a little bit annoyed with the man, and the mage glowered at him.

"Your glibness does you no credit," he said shortly.

"Here I thought we were getting along so _well_. I was even going to name one of my children after you – the _grumpy_ one," Alistair replied, and the mage shook his head, throwing a hand in the air, his temper frayed.

"Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must! Get out of my way, fool!" the mage snapped, storming off. Adeline watched as he went, shrugging and walking over. _So…_ she thought, looking up at Alistair as he watched the mage go, a faint smile on his lips as he turned towards her.

"You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together," he sighed sarcastically, pausing. _Oh. Great._ He thought, trying not to panic; a young Elf woman was standing there, watching him with bright, green eyes. He tried to mask his surprise as he saw a slow, crooked smile spread across her lips, her eyes shining with amusement.

"I know exactly what you mean," she replied, crossing her arms.

"It's like a _party_ : we could all stand in a circle and hold hands. _That_ would give the darkspawn something to think about," Alistair chuckled, glad that she had gotten the joke. His eyes moved over her as she snorted humorously, cocking his head slightly. _Huh. Never seen her before…_ he thought, looking her up and down. She was fine-featured, with a narrow jaw and delicate nose, and slender, graceful ears that poked out from her flaming red hair.

She was a bit small to be a soldier, despite carrying weapons; Alistair wasn't sure if female Elves were even _allowed_ in the military – he hadn't seen many _male_ Elf soldiers so far to begin with – and she held herself too tall to be a servant or messenger. Was she one of the new scouts, coming to give him a report about the Wilds? Or maybe a mage who carried blades instead of staves? "Wait, we haven't met, have we? I don't suppose you happen to be another mage?" he asked, almost groaning, and the girl shrugged.

"Would that make your day worse?" she asked in turn, teasing, and he smiled slightly. _Wow. Pretty, and with a sense of humor. Nice change from the mages and priests screeching in my ear all day,_ Alistair thought, relaxing slightly.

"Hardly. I just like to know my chances of being turned into a _toad_ at any given moment," he replied. _Hmm…red hair…green eyes…oh. She must be the recruit!_ Alistair thought. "Wait, I _do_ know who you are. You're Duncan's new recruit, the Elf from Denerim," he added as he realized who she was, trying to remember her name. _Ugh, what was it? Something with an 'A' I think._ "I should have recognized you right away. I apologize."

"Oh, no harm done," Adeline replied, waving dismissively. "Wait, how would you recognize me?" she added, looking slightly confused. _Ah. She doesn't know Duncan sent word?_ Alistair thought, crossing his arms.

"Duncan sent word. He spoke quite highly of you," Alistair explained, and she nodded.

"Ah, makes sense," she murmured, lightly tapping her lower lip with a finger, glancing aside as she heard the mabaris barking in the kennels. _Huh. She seems…nice. I was expecting…well, I'm not sure_ _ **what**_ _I was expecting, after Duncan's warning, but…not this,_ Alistair thought, trying not to look too relieved.

"Allow me to introduce myself; I'm Alistair, the new Grey Warden," Alistair introduced himself, calling her attention back to him. "…though I…guess you knew that," he continued awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. _Of course she knows that already. How else would she have known to find you?_ he thought, trying not to let the look of chagrin reach his face. "As the junior member of the order, I'll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining," he added.

"Pleased to meet you. My name is Adeline," Adeline introduced herself, holding out her hand in greeting.

 _Oh? Firm grip for an Elf,_ Alistair though, shaking her hand. "Right. That was the name," Alistair recalled. _Adeline Tabris. So is this_ _ **really**_ _the girl Daveth was describing? Somehow she's not as frightening as he made her sound…if this is even_ _ **her**_ _._ "You know…it just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?" Alistair said absently, glancing at her; the girl smirked again, and he bit back a smile.

"Oh, you want more women in the Wardens, do you?" Adeline teased, and he smiled slightly at her tone.

"Would that be so terrible? Not that I'm some drooling _lecher_ or anything. Please stop looking at me like that," Alistair replied quickly, seeing the amusement in her eyes. "So, I'm curious; have you ever actually encountered darkspawn before?" he asked, thinking of the other recruits. _Probably not, but I suppose I should ask,_ he thought, slightly puzzled as the girl laughed at his question.

"Duncan didn't tell you where he picked me up?" Adeline smirked, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Denerim, I assumed," Alistair replied. _Duncan didn't say otherwise…unless he picked her up on his way back from Orzammar?_ He wondered, glancing oddly at the Elf.

"I _met_ Duncan there, but he _recruited_ me in Orzammar," Adeline replied, and Alistair tried not to look too surprised at the news.

"What were you doing in Orzammar?" he wondered.

"Killing darkspawn?" Adeline grinned, and he rolled his eyes, amused by her reply. _She doesn't seem to take them seriously, by her tone,_ he observed. _I hope that confidence is backed up by skill, though, and not just_ _ **over**_ _confidence. Although…if she caught Duncan's interest, she's probably skilled enough to handle herself,_ Alistair thought, observing her carefully.

"I've only fought them once up close, and that was before the battles here started…which Duncan has kept me out of so far," Alistair explained, trying not to sound too bitter about being kept out of the fighting. Adeline raised an eyebrow at his tone, and he quickly tried to shift focus away from the battles. "Tell me, did you find them as monstrous as I did?" Alistair asked, and Adeline shrugged, not seeming very impressed.

"Ugly and twisted, but killable; they bleed when they're cut, and they die when you chop off the head, same as pretty much anything else. As long as I don't do anything stupid while fighting, I think can handle them," the Elf replied. _Alright, I guess that's fair enough,_ he thought, nodding slightly.

"You'll be at an advantage, then. Most new recruits have never even _seen_ darkspawn," he remarked. "Anyhow, whenever you're ready let's head back to Duncan. I imagine he's eager to get things started," Alistair added, nodding towards the ramp that led out of the temple.

oOo

I glanced up at Alistair curiously – he seemed quite nice, for a shem. And I had to admit, he was a rather hansom fellow, with bright, tawny hair that was a rich gold in the sunlight, and deep, honey-brown eyes. He had a sense of humor, too, which was always nice; not crude like Daveth, but rather charming – almost effortlessly so. I was a bit puzzled by his exchange with the mage, though; even before he started making smart remarks – which I tried my best not to laugh at – the mage had looked quite annoyed. "So that argument before…what was that about?" I asked, and Alistair shrugged, crossing his arms.

"With the mage? The Circle is here at the king's request and the Chantry doesn't like that one bit. They just _love_ letting mages know how unwelcome they are," Alistair explained with a sigh. "Which puts _me_ in a bit of an awkward position; I was once a Templar," he added, and my eyes widened.

"What? You were a mage-hunter?" I asked, surprised. He cringed a little, and I bit my lip. "Uh, sorry, that just…came out," I added quietly, and he smiled a bit, seeming slightly amused by my awkward apology.

"Not that that's _all_ Templars do, but yes. The Chantry raised me until Duncan recruited me six months ago," Alistair explained. "I'm sure the Revered Mother meant it as an insult – sending me as her messenger – and the mage picked right up on that. I never would have agreed to deliver it, but Duncan says we're all to cooperate and get along. Apparently, they didn't get the same speech," he grumbled, shaking his head slightly.

"Well, _I_ look forward to traveling with you, anyway," I replied, and Alistair raised an eyebrow.

"You do? Huh. That's a switch," he remarked. "If you have any questions, let me know. Otherwise, lead on," he added, and we headed off.

We walked through the camp, and I glanced up at Alistair; he seemed quite friendly – most of the Grey Wardens I had met _were_ very outgoing – and I smiled, wanting to get to know him. "Tell me a little about yourself," I said, and he glanced back at me, shrugging.

"You first. Did you want to become a Grey Warden?" he replied, and I smiled.

"I thought _I_ asked first," I remarked.

"You asked in general; I'm asking in particular," Alistair answered glibly.

"What? That's not…pff, fine. Have it your way _,_ " I chuckled, smiling helplessly and shaking my head a bit at his words. "Yes, I wanted to become a Grey Warden. My mother used to tell me stories about them when I was little – I always dreamed of meeting one. I suppose you can imagine how happy I was when Duncan actually recruited me," I grinned, and Alistair smiled slightly, seeing the eagerness in my eyes.

"I was conscripted. Not that I didn't want to join," Alistair replied with a shrug. "As I said, I was trained as a Templar before Duncan recruited me about six months ago. The Chantry raised me, and becoming a Templar was a decision made for me a long time ago," he seemed a bit sad at these words, shaking them off quickly as he saw me watching him curiously. "Duncan saw I wasn't happy, and figured my training against mages could double for fighting darkspawn. Now, here I stand a proud Grey Warden," he smiled. "The Grand Cleric wouldn't have let me go if Duncan never forced the issue. I'll always be grateful to him."

"You didn't want to join the Chantry?" I asked, and he shrugged again.

"It just…wasn't for me. I believe in the Maker well enough, but I never wanted to devote my _life_ to the Chantry," Alistair replied. _Oh? Oh. Maybe he's an orphan,_ I thought, deciding to change the subject – he didn't seem to want to talk about it.

"You speak fondly of Duncan," I observed.

"I spent years in that Chantry, hopelessly resigned to my fate. Duncan was the first person who cared what _I_ wanted. He risked a lot of trouble with the Grand Cleric to help me," Alistair explained, and I cocked my head.

"Maybe Duncan thought you'd be useful," I mused, and I heard Alistair snort.

"Or _maybe_ he just happens to be a good man," he retorted defensively, a hint of steel in his voice.

"Sorry! Sorry, I didn't mean it like that," I apologized quickly, and he smiled slightly at my nervous tone. "Pff, I'm amazed I can still walk after putting _both_ feet in my mouth," I muttered as I ran a hand awkwardly through my hair, glancing over with surprise as Alistair chuckled.

"Oh, it's quite easy – I'm a bit of an expert, actually," he replied, and I laughed.

"Are we…really trying to out self-depreciate each other?" I asked with amusement, and he smirked.

"You _are_ talking to a Templar; I think self-flagellation is in the job description," he said. I couldn't help it – I burst out laughing at his remark, and he grinned as I blushed and covered my mouth, trying to settle my giggling down before people started staring at us. He was easily the most charming person I had ever met, and I found myself liking him more by the minute.

I settled down my laughing until I was simply smiling, my embarrassment ebbing away as I relaxed; there was just something about him that seemed to calm me down, even in the midst of a camp full of strange shems. We were quiet for a while before I spoke up again. "So can you tell me anything about Duncan? I spent weeks traveling with him and the others from Orzammar, but I know next to nothing about him," I asked, and Alistair glanced down at me, shrugging.

"Duncan is the leader of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden...which _he_ would say doesn't mean much, as there aren't many of us here. Yet," he began. "Beyond that, he's a good man. A good judge of character. I owe him a lot," Alistair added, letting out a soft sigh. "What about you? What do you think of him?" he asked in turn, and I bit my lip.

"He seems like a kind man, if firm," I replied, "and I owe him a great deal."

"That sounds familiar," Alistair said. "He's done the best he can with what little he has…and that includes me, I guess. You want to ask me about something else?" he added, and I thought for a few moments.

"Hmm…how about the Grey Wardens?" I tried, and Alistair smiled a bit.

"So I imagine. What would you like to know?" he replied.

"What makes you all so special?" I asked. "I mean, no offense, but you all just look like regular she-…uh, _humans,_ to me." I caught myself quickly, glancing up at Alistair. He had probably noticed my slip, but didn't seem offended.

"The Grey Wardens are warriors without equal. Darkspawn threatened to destroy the world four times over; each time, the Grey Wardens led mankind to victory," Alistair explained. "Nobody knows more about darkspawn, and nobody's better equipped to deal with them. You'll see, trust me," he added. I crossed my arms, glancing at him sideways.

"So…they're knights? Heroes?" I wondered, and he shrugged.

"I…don't know if I'd go _that_ far. Duncan says the Grey Wardens do whatever is necessary to protect mankind from darkspawn. That means some pretty extreme things; whatever it takes to bring victory," he replied ominously.

"Hmm…speaking of darkspawn, how do you know this is a Blight? I hear that many have their doubts about it," I remarked, and Alistair made a face.

"The Grey Wardens keep watch. We…feel the darkspawn when they come. You'll understand after the Joining, if you s…" he bit his tongue, as if trying to catch the word he had been about to say with his teeth. "Well, you'll understand," Alistair continued, and I narrowed my eyes slightly at his slip. _If I…'s'? What was he going to say? Mmm…I'm getting a bad feeling about this whole Joining business._ "Not to mention people start to notice when darkspawn pour out of the Wilds and taint everything around them. Just a guess," he added quickly, trying to distract me.

"So just how _many_ darkspawn are out there, anyway?" I asked.

"Thousands? Tens of thousands? They've had centuries to build up their numbers," Alistair replied wearily, glancing out towards the tall pine trees that grew around the edge of camp. "You said you were fighting them in Orzammar, right? Did you notice how few there were in the Deep Roads?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"Well it was my first time down there…but the Dwarves I was exploring with _did_ mention that there were fewer darkspawn than the year before," I replied, and Alistair nodded.

"That's because they've breached the surface, and have assembled a horde in the Wilds," he explained, and I nodded.

"Makes sense. I suppose Duran and I were lucky we didn't encounter too many of them," I recalled. "He's a friend of mine, back in Orzammar," I added, seeing Alistair's curious look. "So how do Grey Wardens defeat Blights? I can't imagine you just keep fighting hordes of darkspawn like this – I mean, that's what the _Dwarves_ do, and it doesn't seemed to work," I remarked.

"We chop off the snake's head. It's the only way," Alistair replied. "According to texts, the most famous Grey Warden leader, Garahel, killed the archdemon Andorhal in personal combat at the Battle of Ayesleigh to end the last Blight," Alistair explained. "Without the archdemon to command them, the darkspawn flee back underground."

"Ah! I've heard of Garahel," I nodded. "So this archdemon…what _is_ it exactly? I've seen artist interpretations in history books, and they all look like some sort of dragon-type thing."

"Well, the Old Gods were dragons, so the stories say. Big ones. _Intelligent_ , even," Alistair began. "The Tevinter Empire had big statues of them. Each dragon had a name and a place in the cosmos… It's all very intricate. The archdemons may not be the Old Gods, but they definitely look like dragons," he explained. I chewed my lip in thought, digesting all of the information he had given me.

"This is a lot to take in all at once," I remarked, and Alistair smiled.

" _You're_ the one asking questions," he replied.

"Hm, true enough. Well, I suppose we should get to it, then," I said, nodding towards the path as we walked back to the Grey Warden tent, looking for Duncan.

oooo

"You found Alistair, did you? Good. I'll assume you are ready to begin preparations," Duncan said, greeting us as we found him standing near a large bonfire, across from the kennels. Daveth and Jory were standing nearby, watching us, nodding in greeting at our approach. "Assuming, of course, that you're quite finished riling up mages, Alistair," he added, giving Alistair a pointed look.

"What can I say? The Revered Mother ambushed me. The way she wields guilt they should stick her in the army," Alistair replied glibly, but Duncan didn't look amused.

"She forced you to sass the mage, did she? We cannot afford to antagonize anyone, Alistair. We don't need to give anyone more ammunition against us," Duncan argued, and Alistair sighed, bowing his head in apology.

"You're right, Duncan. I apologize," he said, and Duncan nodded.

"Now then, since you are all here, we can begin," the older Grey Warden said, looking at the three recruits as we stood before him. "You four will be heading into the Korcari Wilds to perform two tasks. The first is to obtain three vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit," he began, and I glanced at Daveth – he had been right about that after all, it seemed.

"Darkspawn blood? What for?" Daveth asked, half curious half wary.

"For the Joining itself. I'll explain more once you've returned," Duncan replied.

"Finally, a bit of action," I said glancing up at Duncan with an eager grin, my eyes shining with anticipation.

"Without a doubt. Darkspawn aren't renowned for their willingness to offer up their blood," Duncan replied, chuckling at my excitement. "There was once a Grey Warden archive in the Wilds, abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts," he continued. "It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls have been left behind, magically sealed to protect them. Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls if you can," he said, and Alistair nodded.

"What kinds of scrolls?" I asked.

"Old treaties, if you're curious. Promises of support made to the Grey Wardens long ago," Duncan explained. "They were once considered only formalities. With so many having forgotten their commitments to us, I suspect it may be a good idea to have something to remind them with."

"How will we find this archive?" Ser Jory asked. I was curious as well; the nearby landscape was dotted with Tevinter ruins, and I doubted Duncan was expecting us to scour the forest and marshland for these treaties.

"It will be an overgrown ruin by now, but the sealed chest should remain intact. Alistair will guide you to the area you need to search," Duncan replied.

"Find the archive and three vials of blood. Understood," I repeated.

"Watch over your charges, Alistair. Return quickly, and safely," Duncan said, shaking our hands firmly in farewell.

"We will," Alistair promised.

"Then may the Maker watch over your path. I will see you when you return," Duncan replied, watching us go.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	5. Chapter 5: The Wilds

Chapter 5: The Wilds

Disclaimer - I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The Korcari Wilds were full of thick, swampy woodlands, the uneven terrain covered in tangled brush and dotted with muddy pools, mosquitoes and dragonflies darting around near the stagnant water. "Wow…this looks creepy," I murmured, looking at the tall, dark pine trees, scattered beams of sunlight streaming through, giving the ground a mottled look. "You said you were from Redcliffe, Ser Jory?" I said, attempting to strike up conversation with the knight, trying to distract him; he looked a bit tense as we entered the woods, and the _last_ thing we needed was him panicking at the first sign of danger.

"I hail from Redcliffe, but Duncan recruited me in Highever, a city off the northern coast. Have you traveled there?" he replied amicably, and I smiled; he seemed to have calmed down a little bit, at least.

"No, but I knew some Elves that came to Denerim from there," I said.

"I was in Arl Eamon's retinue when he attended King Maric's funeral. It was in Highever that I met my Helena," Jory continued, smiling at the memory. The other two let out groans as they heard the name, and I raised an eyebrow. Jory shot them a look before continuing. "I was smitten – she has the most beautiful eyes, my Helena," he sighed. "For years, I found any excuse to return there. We married a year ago. Arl Eamon gave me leave to serve in Highever, but I was attempting to persuade Helena to come to Redcliffe with me. At least, until I was recruited," he explained.

"I'm sure she would be proud, knowing you will help battle the Blight," I smiled; perhaps he wasn't so bad after all. He seemed a bit nervous, but I was sure he was an experienced warrior if he had been a knight before this.

A hand clapped down hard on the small of my back, and I leapt forward, catching a surprised yelp before it got past my teeth. "Daveth you _bastard_ – you _know_ I hate when you do that!" I scowled; he had gotten behind me while I was talking to Jory, and I hadn't noticed him.

"You're still jumpy as a cat on hot coals," he teased, and I rolled my eyes.

"No thanks to _you,_ " I muttered. "I swear, you and Neria will _kill_ me one of these days," I added, and he chuckled.

"So Tabby, how've things been in the Alienage?" Daveth asked, and I shrugged.

"Hmm? I dunno – I left a couple months ago and spent some time in Orzammar. It's probably the same as ever, though – filth lining the streets, nobles coming down and kicking us around," I replied. "My cousin got married before I left, though," I added, and Daveth raised an eyebrow.

"What, _Shianni?_ " he asked incredulously, and I snorted, shaking my head.

"Pff, no. _Soris_ ," I chuckled. "The only things that matter to Shianni are booze, family, and _more_ booze. Marriage isn't exactly a priority," I replied. I suddenly walked over and punched him hard in the arm, eliciting a loud ' _ow, what the hell_ ' from him as I grinned – he really should have expected that, after startling me. "I missed you, you useless son-of-a-whore – I barely made a decent profit without you. Neria just doesn't have the talent for making spectacular distractions like you," I added, and he smiled. Daveth grabbed my shoulders, ruffling my hair affectionately in revenge for punching him, and I laughed, trying to pull out of his grip. "Eww! _Gross!_ Your hands are all sweaty!" I yelled, and he grinned, holding on tighter as I bit his arm, laughing at my attempts to get away.

"I missed you too, Tabby," he chuckled as I made a low sound in my throat, like the growl of a cat. "Shame you cut your hair…but it suits you like this. And you can't get grabbed by it as easily," he grinned, and I rolled my eyes at him, elbowing him sharply in the ribs and managing to wiggle away from his grip. He laughed as I combed my fingers through my messy hair, trying to settle it back down.

"Wait, so Adeline is the 'Tabby' girl you told us about?" Alistair asked, glancing back at us as we pinched and elbowed one another like siblings.

"What, you were _talking_ about me?" I asked in surprise, glancing up at Daveth. "I'm almost afraid to ask what was said…" I added with dread.

"Hah, just that I used to chase you across the Denerim rooftops," Daveth replied teasingly, and I flicked his ear.

"Yeah, when we were running from the _garrison_ ," I snorted. "Neria and I have the sense to be discreet, but you go around flipping the guards off and calling them names, practically _asking_ for trouble," I added, and Daveth grinned.

"Oh you both _laughed_ when it was over," he replied, and I rolled my eyes.

"That we did. _After_ we screamed your ears off," I said, crossing my arms.

"Aw…and I thought that's how you showed your affection. You sure you don't have feelings for me, deary?" he teased, pinching my ear, and I smiled sweetly at the rogue.

"I thought you learned your lesson after I broke your nose the _first_ time, Davvy dear," I replied icily, and he laughed.

"Can't blame a man for trying," he argued playfully. "So how's Neria?" he added, and I shrugged, finally managing to settle my hair down.

"Don't know. She was talking about her clan last we spoke – she said they might be heading up to the Free Marches, but I'm not sure if she'll try to find them – she didn't seem to be very close to anyone there," I replied, and Daveth nodded, looking thoughtful. I stepped lightly over a rotted log, pausing as a strange, creepy feeling came over me, stopping and looking around.

"What is it?" Daveth asked, seeing my wary look, my eyes narrowed as I gazed about the woods, my shoulders tense.

"…I thought I…felt something…" I replied, looking around carefully one more time before walking back towards Alistair and Jory, who had seen us stop.

"You alright?" Alistair asked, seeing my wary look, and I shrugged.

"I don't know – I'm getting a weird feeling from this place; I think we're being followed," I murmured. "Do you think the Wilders are keeping an eye on Ostagar?" I asked, and Daveth made a face, not liking the sound of that.

"Well, there _are_ Chasind in these woods. We'll have to watch out for them, as well as the darkspawn, I suppose," Alistair replied.

We came to a clearing further along, and I spotted the ruins of a wagon, broken bits of charred wood scattered among the trees and brush. A faint moaning drifted over to us, and we walked cautiously into the open area. "Who…is that? Grey…Wardens…?" a wounded soldier asked, gasping in pain. The clearing was littered with the corpses of armored men; he was the only survivor of his company.

"Well, he's not half as dead as he looks, is he?" Alistair remarked, crouching next to the man.

"My scouting band was attacked by darkspawn!" the man cried, and I knelt next to Alistair, looking over his wounds.

"I'm not much of a healer, but I could wrap his wounds if I had some cloth," I murmured, glancing towards the Grey Warden.

"I have bandages in my pack," Alistair offered, helping me wrap the man's minor injuries. He stood, thanking us and limping away, back towards the camp. Alistair helped me to my feet, looking back in the direction that the man had gone.

"Did you hear? An entire patrol of seasoned men killed by darkspawn!" Ser Jory said, panic in his tone. He looked around the clearing warily, as if expecting darkspawn to appear out of nowhere.

"Calm down, Ser Jory. We'll be fine if we're careful," Alistair tried to settle him down, but the knight shook his head, indicating the dead soldiers.

"Those soldiers were careful, and they were still overwhelmed. How many darkspawn can the four of us slay? A dozen? A hundred? There's an entire _army_ in these forests!" he replied, and Alistair let out a small sigh, trying to be patient with him.

"There are darkspawn about, but we're in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde," Alistair reassured him calmly, and Jory stared at him with large eyes.

"How do you know? I'm not a coward, but this is foolish and reckless. We should go back," the knight said, and I snorted.

"Sure sound like one to me," I muttered under my breath, and he glared at me.

"I…am simply trying to stay alive. You do not see me fleeing, do you?" he retorted, crossing his arms.

"A bit of fear isn't unnatural, you know. Few relish meeting darkspawn up close. I know _I_ don't," Alistair interjected, trying to diffuse the tension.

"The _darkspawn_ don't fear. They hunt, and they kill – there's nothing else to them," I replied a little more sharply than I intended, and Alistair's eyes widened for a moment at the severity in my voice before he smirked, crossing his arms.

"Well aren't _you_ the battle-scarred little veteran," he joked, and I rolled my eyes.

"You don't travel the Deep Roads without learning a thing or two about darkspawn, Alistair," I replied, although I smiled slightly.

He gave a short nod, seeming satisfied with my response, and he turned to face Jory. "Know this; All Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn. Whatever their cunning, I guarantee they won't take us by surprise. That's why I'm here," he added in a more serious tone.

"You see, ser knight? We might die, but we'll be warned about it first," Daveth grinned cheekily, and Jory looked at us, still unsure.

"That is…reassuring?" he replied.

"That _doesn't_ mean I'm here to make this easy, however. So let's get a move on," Alistair prompted, and we nodded, following him. We continued on, coming to two hills with a great fallen tree lying between them, creating a bridge across the tops. "Look there! Poor slobs. That just seems so excessive," Alistair remarked, pointing up ahead. I looked up, seeing the mutilated bodies of soldiers hanging from the tree-trunk, shaking my head in disgust.

"That's…well, excessive is _one_ way to put it," I mumbled, staring up at them with narrowed eyes. Alistair stiffened suddenly, looking around quickly and drawing his sword. "What is it?" I asked.

"Darkspawn nearby, be careful," he replied. I reached for my blades, yelping and leaping back as the ground under my feet erupted; horrible, twisted creatures started crawling out with growls and screams, clawing at our legs. Daveth and Jory were frozen for a moment with wide eyes, and their muscles stiff with primal terror as they saw their first darkspawn. Daveth was the first to recover, seeing me stumble as another darkspawn burst from the ground right beneath me, throwing me off balance.

"Get back!" Daveth yelled, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the way, drawing a pair of blades from his belt and guarding me until I was armed. The darkspawn snarled at us, attacking, and I drew my saber, dodging lightly past the creature as it leapt at me, stabbing it in the throat. We struck down the darkspawn quickly, defending ourselves as more ran down the hills towards us.

"Watch the archers!" Alistair cried, bashing a tall darkspawn down with his shield, stabbing it in the chest as it shrieked.

"Got it!" Daveth called, sheathing his blades and drawing his bow, expertly taking the archers down with a well-placed arrow to each creature's throat. I kept the other darkspawn off his back as more erupted from the ground, shrieking and wailing as I stabbed them in their faces and throats. I let out a harsh bark of laughter as I gave a great swing of my blade, feeling my blood boiling in my veins as I beheaded a darkspawn that was Jory's height.

Once we had defeated the creatures, we knelt down next to them, collecting the required vials of blood. "Careful, the blood burns when it touches skin," Alistair warned, and we nodded, collecting the liquid carefully.

"Hmm…" I wondered, looking at the vial, holding it up to the sunlight and inspecting the contents; the blood was dark, dark red, with swirling black clots floating in the thick liquid. _Gross,_ I thought – it, and the bodies of the darkspawn, reeked of death and rotting things, and it made my stomach roll as the adrenalin from the fight wore off. "What are we using these for, anyway? I can't imagine we're getting blood just to prove that we can kill darkspawn," I murmured, wrapping the vial in cloth and tucking it into my pocket. I glanced around quickly, getting the feeling that we were being watched again, and I shivered slightly, trotting back to join the others.

" _I'm_ betting they have us _drink_ it," Daveth teased, and I heaved at the thought, covering my mouth. Jory turned white as a sheet, and Alistair glanced back at the rogue oddly.

"Ugh, don't even," I groaned, and Daveth smirked, patting my back.

"We'll down it like shots of Nevarran whiskey," he continued, and I slapped his arm.

"Shut _up!_ " I growled, and he chuckled.

"What, it can't be much worse than the swill they served at the Fish Head – I swear, the old goat behind the counter was selling _paint thinner_ half the time," he retorted, and I sighed, shaking my head. I trotted up ahead as he continued to torment Jory, scaring the man as he speculated on what we were going to do with the blood.

"So this Joining ritual…" I began as I came up next to Alistair, and he looked like he was biting back a groan, knowing what I was going to ask.

"There's…not a lot I can tell you. We collect the vials of darkspawn blood, and then you'll hear everything once we get back to camp," he replied, and I looked up at him with big eyes.

"Surely you can tell me _something_ ," I insisted, giving him a pleading look and fluttering my eyelashes. He looked at me and groaned softly, letting out a sigh.

"I…look, I can't tell you much, alright?" he whispered, leaning in so the others couldn't hear. "The Joining is… _very_ unpleasant. I wish I could forget it, but I can't. I don't envy what you're going to have to go through," he murmured, and I felt my eyes widen slightly.

"But what actually _happens_ in the Joining?" I prodded, and he shrugged.

"You learn why it's a secret," he replied, and I rolled my eyes.

"I think I'll be fine, Alistair," I assured him, and he smiled slightly.

"That's the spirit. If becoming a Grey Warden were easy, we wouldn't recruit the best," he said, reaching out a hand to pat my shoulder. He paused, though, catching himself and hurriedly putting his hand down. I raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly as I realized what had happened.

"I don't mind, really – I'm not skittish about getting a pat on the back," I assured him. "Daveth's just being an ass when he does that; he likes startling me," I explained. Alistair remained silent, but he nodded a bit, a hint of a smile on his lips.

oOo

All that was left for the group to do was to find the treaties; Alistair led them through the Wilds as he looked at the map, and after a few hours of walking, Adeline couldn't help getting the sneaking suspicion that he was lost. She absently picked a white wildflower that she spotted by the edge of a pool of water, a bit curious about it, and decided that she would ask the healers in camp about it once they returned.

After passing the same tree stump for the third time – she had marked it with a large 'X' on one side – Adeline let out a loud, exasperated sigh. "Alistair," she said, and the man glanced back, looking at her sheepishly – he knew what she was going to say. "We're _lost_ , aren't we?"

"Um…maybe?" he replied, and she scowled, crossing her arms. "Alright, so _maybe_ we took a wrong turn…somewhere…" Alistair thought that he _should_ have felt threatened by the scowling Elf woman…except that she barely reached his shoulders, and she got a cute little knot between her eyebrows when she was mad. He didn't want to laugh, though – if Daveth was telling the truth the other day, this girl could probably break his jaw when she was mad enough.

"Can I see the map?" Adeline asked as she walked over, and Alistair handed it to her. She raised an eyebrow, looking around at the scenery before glancing back at the map. She pointed to something on the map, holding up a finger and looking around in confusion, as if searching for something that wasn't there.

"You can read that?" Jory asked, leaning over her shoulder, and the girl scowled up at him.

"Excuse you! Just because I grew up in an Alienage doesn't make me illiterate!" she huffed, and the knight made a face.

"No, I…apologize," he said hurriedly. "The handwriting is difficult for me to understand," he explained, and Adeline settled down, grumbling something under her breath. She scowled at the map for a few seconds more, making a face and looking around again.

"What in the…how old _is_ this map?" she asked impatiently, and Alistair shrugged.

"Not sure," he admitted, and Adeline glanced up at him, her anger fading when she saw that he honestly didn't know.

"Alright, I guess I can't really blame you for getting us lost," she sighed. "I'm pretty sure this map is old – _very_ old. As old as those treaties we're after, maybe – half of the landmarks on the map probably don't _exist_ anymore," she explained.

"Well, the ruin we're looking for is supposed to be _here_ ," Alistair said, pointing it out on the map. "It's on top of a large hill, near a big dome," he described. He watched as Adeline glanced around, unbuckling her weapons and putting them on the ground, rolling up the ancient map and tucking it into her vest. "…what are you doing?" he asked.

"Daveth, give me a boost," she called, ignoring Alistair's question and trotting over to a tall tree. The ranger came up behind her, bending slightly and cupping his hands without asking what she was doing – Alistair guessed by their banter and closeness that they had been partners in crime for a long time. Adeline stepped into the ranger's hands, and on the count of three, Daveth tossed her into the air. She landed lightly in the tree's branches, clinging tightly to the trunk as she clambered higher.

" _Careful_ up there!" Alistair exclaimed, his heart leaping into his throat as the tree's narrow top shook and leaned back and forth violently.

"Ah, she'll be fine – cat can run across a laundry-line like it's the Imperial Highway," Daveth assured him, but Alistair couldn't help but feel worried for her – if she fell from all the way up there, she'd almost certainly break an arm or leg.

"Okay, I see it!" Adeline called back down, and they could see her arm poking from the thick needles, pointing northwest. As she clambered back down, Alistair jumped as he heard loud snapping, and then a startled yelp once she reached the lower half of the tree.

"Catch her!" he shouted, and the three ran to the base of the tree as Adeline came down, landing on top of Jory and knocking him over, a thin branch of pine whacking her over the head as she tried to get up. Despite his worry, Alistair fought hard not to laugh at the startled look on her face as the branch hit her, and at the loose pine-needles sticking out of her hair. She coughed and spat out more needles, glancing over towards the other two and laughing.

"A…ouch…squirrel fell on my head and startled me," she explained, staggering to her feet, and helping Jory up. She massaged her back and arms and apologized to the knight – he still looked winded from falling over.

"I thought cats always landed on their feet," Daveth said teasingly, patting her on the shoulder after making sure she was alright. She batted his arm off, glaring, and he smiled innocently as he held up his hands.

"It almost scares me that you take my nickname so literally," she remarked, plucking pine-needles out of her hair. "Oh, Alistair, I figured out what was wrong," she added, and Alistair took the map as she handed it back to him. "That dome that's supposed to be next to the tower is half sunk into the swamp – the hill must have collapsed at some point," she explained.

"Huh," Alistair remarked thoughtfully, tucking the map away. "I didn't think of that," he added apologetically, and she snorted.

"It's not _your_ fault you were given an outdated map," she replied, and he smiled slightly at her words. _She's so reckless, though,_ he thought, still a bit surprised at what she had done. "Now come on, before the sun sets," she added, "I don't like the looks of this place, and I'd rather not get lost in a cold, creepy swamp with the darkspawn and Maker knows what else hanging about." Alistair nodded, leading them through the trees in the direction Adeline had pointed to. Soon, a tall hill came into view, with a large, sunken dome off to the side, partially submerged in the marsh.

"Looks like you were right," Daveth remarked as they spotted the watchtower, and Adeline smiled crookedly at the ranger.

"Aren't I always?" she replied cockily, and Daveth tousled her hair mischievously, Alistair chuckling as she complained. She really was nothing like he had expected, and he was glad – Daveth's dubious description of the girl had made him worry over nothing, it seemed.

oOo

"So Tabby, you said you went to Orzammar?" Daveth asked as we continued, and I nodded, trying to flatten down my hair after he had messed it up again, still picking out a stray pine-needle here and there.

"Aye, that I did," I replied, and he scratched his chin, cocking his head and looking at me thoughtfully.

"Why'd you leave Denerim? Did you _really_ kill someone?" he prodded, and I laughed, seeing the others glance back with wide eyes.

"Oh, I needed some time away from shems, that's all. I suppose getting recruited by Duncan sort of defeated that purpose, but I'm killing darkspawn either way. It's something to occupy my time, at least," I said, knitting my fingers together and resting them on the back of my head. Daveth laughed, shaking his head at my blasé attitude.

"So you're just bored?" he joked, and a snorted.

"Of course not, but it's better than getting strung up by the garrison," I replied in an undertone, not really wanting the others to hear.

"Only _you_ could be this calm talking about fighting darkspawn," Daveth grinned, seeing that I wanted to change the subject, and I shrugged.

"What? They bleed and die like any man. And _they're_ not panicking – fear makes you sloppy in a fight," I remarked.

"You see, _this_ is why you were always saving my hide," Daveth remarked with a smile, and I rolled my eyes.

"No, you're just _really_ unlucky, and I saved your sorry arse so I wouldn't feel bad about it later," I snorted.

"Aw, you cold-hearted cat," he teased, pinching my cheek.

As we walked, I glanced around warily; I glared suspiciously towards the tree-line, scanning the brush for movement as I got the creeping sensation again, _knowing_ that something was watching us. "There are quite a few ahead, including a mage," Alistair warned, as we came to a flatter area, before the hill.

I froze, looking at a bridge that stood between two moss-covered pillars. A tall darkspawn in tattered, ragged robes stood, raising a twisted rod above his head, and I could sense an odd, dark energy about it. "Spell incoming!" I yelled out a warning, spotting the glowing aura that appeared around the darkspawn, hearing it screeching out an incantation as a ball of flame formed at the tip of its staff. We dove out of the way as a fireball shot towards us, exploding on impact and knocking us off our feet. I was thrown clear of the explosion, tumbling forward and landing hard on my back and hitting my head.

"You alright Tabby?" Daveth asked, kneeling next to me and helping me into a sitting position, glancing back towards the darkspawn warily.

"Yeah, just…ouch…wait for everything to stop spinning," I replied slowly, gingerly massaging my head and watching Alistair making strange hand symbols. A pale, silvery mist rippled out from around him, sweeping over the darkspawn, and it shrieked, waving the staff around in confusion. "What'd he just do?" I asked; I suddenly felt ill, though I chalked it up to my head injury. Alistair and Jory charged the darkspawn mage, taking it down while it seemed to be unable to cast magic.

"I dunno. He's a Templar, right? Maybe he just nullified the thing's magic – Templars can do that, I think," Daveth theorized, and I let out a breath, biting back a wave of nausea.

"Huh. Well that could be useful," I commented, walking over once the darkspawn had been taken care of. "Anyone hurt?" I asked, and they shook their heads, continuing up the steep hill and fighting more darkspawn as they went. I massaged my head, staying out of the thick of things – I was still dizzy, and I didn't want to distract the others by putting myself in needless danger, so I stayed by Daveth, keeping darkspawn off his back as he shot them down from a distance.

oOo

"Whoa, check out that big bastard!" Adeline exclaimed, spotting a large darkspawn with heavy, plate-metal armor, its helmet decorated with curved horns, standing just inside the door of a large tower. Alistair narrowed his eyes at the darkspawn, recognizing it as a hurlock Alpha – a particularly strong hurlock with heavy armor, slightly more intelligent than the average darkspawn…and annoyingly hard to kill.

"Hurlock Alpha. Ser Jory and I will handle him," Alistair reassured the Elf, and she made a face at him, crossing her arms and giving him a look.

"I wasn't planning on _charging_ it," Adeline snorted, shrugging and keeping an eye out for more darkspawn. The two warriors charged, engaging the Alpha, and Daveth scouted over the other side of the hill, making sure to keep within sight, should he get attacked. Adeline looked about, cringing as she massaged the back of her head, closing her eyes in pain. There was a sizeable bump, and she hissed as it throbbed under her fingers.

"Adeline! Behind you!" Alistair shouted frantically, and the Elf whirled around, her eyes wide as saucers. The Alpha had thrown Ser Jory down and had slipped away from Alistair, descending upon her with a shriek, going for what it thought was the weakest member of the group. _By the Maker!_ Alistair thought frantically, tearing down the hill after the darkspawn as it swung its blade. Daveth shot arrows at the creature, but they bounced off its armor – the ranger couldn't get a clear shot at any exposed places, and the hurlock held up its shield to block any more attacks.

" _Andraste's flaming knickers!_ I thought you said you _had_ him!" Adeline cried; she just barely managed to throw up her saber in time, bracing the flat of the blade against her left hand as she blocked the Alpha's powerful swing. Adeline was surprised the thin blade didn't snap right there; it wasn't even _bending_ against the weight of the blow, and seemed to sing and vibrate at the hurlock's presence. She kicked at the armored darkspawn's shins and crotch, cringing as it didn't flinch, the heavy armor sending jolts of pain through her foot.

Alistair saw Adeline's arms shudder and her knees buckle under the strength of the darkspawn's attack, and the Elf swore as the Alpha disarmed her, twisting her blade with his so that it cut into her left palm. She dropped the saber before it cut her hand in half, and the creature slammed Adeline hard across the head with his shield, throwing her to the ground. _Oh sod, oh sod,_ Alistair bit back the swears, his eyes narrowed in anger as he gripped his sword with both arms, picking up speed as he ran downhill.

Adeline stared up at the Alpha dizzily, her hands searching frantically for her blade as the darkspawn raised his sword, ready to strike her down. She stabbed weakly into the creature's foot, but the knife didn't penetrate the creature's armored boot. A ferocious yell distracted the creature, and Alistair was suddenly behind it, cutting the darkspawn's head clean off with a two-handed swing of his sword.

"Adeline!" he gasped, kneeling next to her as she struggled to sit up, blood running down the left side of her face and out of her mouth. "Are you alright?" he asked, and she nodded faintly, slowly sitting up as Alistair put an arm around her back for support. Her eyes were unfocussed, and she shut them tightly, gripping her head in her hands as she leaned against him.

"I'll…I'll live…" Adeline murmured, cringing as she touched her wound. "Sorry. I was caught off guard. I should have been keeping better watch," she apologized, and Alistair let out a quiet breath, helping the girl to her feet and letting her lean against him as she staggered a bit. _Don't blame yourself for that,_ Alistair thought, _it's my job to keep this sort of thing from happening._

"No one was expecting you to have to take on an Alpha alone. I shouldn't have let him get away from me like that in the first place," Alistair assured her softly, not sure if she even heard him; her eyes were closed, and she looked like she was trying not to vomit from the dizziness. "Here, we can rest for a few minutes in the tower – I don't sense any more darkspawn around," he added, and Adeline nodded slightly as they followed Daveth and Jory into the tower.

They stood in the ruin, the roof collapsed and open to the sky, with broken pieces of stone pillars scattered across the floor. Bushes and grasses had grown around the entranceway, slowly creeping into the cracks between the broken stones of the floor. The sun was heading towards the horizon, the sky turning faintly orange. Shadows were cast through the tower's main floor, and Alistair looked up towards a sloping walkway, where the stones were slightly more intact. _This must have been a pretty big watchtower at some point,_ he thought, _although it seems there's not much left after…what, centuries of neglect?_

Daveth and Jory scouted the area for any traces of the treaties while Alistair looked after Adeline's injuries. He glanced back at the Elf as she sat on a collapsed pillar, breathing slowly with closed eyes as she tried to settle down the nausea. Blood had stopped flowing from the wound by her temple, and her hair stood out in a messy clump on that side, coated in blood as it stuck to her skin. Her left hand was still bleeding, and she pulled off her glove, fumbling with her water-skin as she tried to opening it with her right hand.

"Here, let me help you," Alistair offered, coming over and sitting down next to her on the collapsed pillar. Adeline glanced up at him, a hint of wariness in her eyes at his closeness. _Oh, wait, I forgot what Duncan said…_ Alistair thought, masking his surprise when Adeline nodded slightly, moving a little closer to him and pressing her leg against his.

"…alright," the girl breathed weakly, cringing as she held out her hand. Alistair smiled reassuringly as he pulled off his armored gauntlets and took some bandages out of his pack. He took her hand lightly in his, his fingers gingerly holding her wrist still as he cleaned the cut and wrapped a bandage around the wound. _Her hands are so delicate…_ Alistair thought, his eyes flicking up to the girl's face. She was watching him with an odd look on her face; she looked almost intrigued, and he glanced back down quickly, trying to concentrate on her wound, and not on the sudden feeling of having his heart in his throat.

"There, just try not to put too much pressure on it. You should have someone look at that once we get back to camp," Alistair said once he was finished wrapping Adeline's wound, going quiet as his eyes met hers again. They were deep green, like fresh leaves, and Alistair felt that he couldn't look away if he tried. _Alright…maybe now I understand why Jory keeps going on about his wife's eyes…_

"Thank you…Alistair," Adeline replied softly, glancing away awkwardly as they broke eye-contact. Alistair frowned with concern as he looked at the messy patch of hair and blood across the Elf's left temple.

"Mmm…that head wound looks nasty…" Alistair mumbled, a bit nervous as well. He reached out a hand slowly, pausing before he touched her face. "…may I?" he asked softly, and Adeline looked up at him.

"You may," she murmured a reply, and he nodded slightly. He lifted her hair out of the way, inspecting the wound. He took in a sharp breath through his teeth as he saw the damage – the force of the blow had left her with a long, jagged cut, and although it wasn't deep, it bled into her hair and made it stick to her temple.

"Is it bad?" Adeline asked softly, and Alistair cleared his throat.

"Well, if you don't get treatment when we get back to camp, it could leave a scar," he replied quietly, and Adeline gave him a small, crooked smile.

"Ooh, I always wanted a sexy battle scar," she joked, cringing as her chuckling made her head throb, and Alistair bit his lip, trying not to laugh as he treated her injury. _Hah, wow. Is she really as nervous as Duncan said?_ Alistair thought as he looked at Adeline, trying to concentrate on her injuries, and not on those bright, playful eyes. He wet a cloth with some water from Adeline's water-skin, lightly dabbing at the blood as he tried to get a better look at the injury. Adeline tried to hold still, flinching slightly as he pressed the cloth against the wound. " _Oww!_ " she complained, shutting her eyes and grabbing his knee, and he made a face, trying not to jump with surprise.

"Hold still – I'll be careful," Alistair murmured, and she bit her lip, nodding slightly. He cleaned the wound slowly, looking at the large cut that remained. Adeline shut her eyes as he treated the injury with a bit of healing poultice, feeling a bolt of heat in her stomach as his fingers moved lightly over the wound, brushing a strand of hair away from it and tucking it behind her ear – no one had ever touched her face before, and never so gently; she was actually surprised that a warrior could have such a gentle way about him.

Adeline heard the other two return from their search, but her eyes remained on Alistair. "I'm sorry…" she mumbled as Alistair finished, and the Grey Warden raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the girl.

"Whatever for?" he asked, and she looked at him guiltily.

"For being a burden," she replied, and Alistair snorted softly.

"Oh stop being so dramatic," he said, shaking his head at her. " _I_ should be the one apologizing, if anything. It's my job to make sure you're all safe," Alistair argued.

"Exactly why I'm apologizing – I'm making your job harder for you," Adeline argued, and Alistair scowled. His expression softened slightly as he saw the hint of teasing in the Elf's eyes.

"I could tell you were going to be a handful as soon as I saw you; I should keep a closer eye on you so you don't get any ideas," he snorted, and Adeline smiled.

"Oh? Maybe I won't apologize, then," she replied smoothly, her tone changing slightly. _Is that…is she…flirting with me?_ Alistair wondered, trying not to smile at the thought. He stood and glanced around the tower once more; he had just got a strange feeling, and he narrowed his eyes at the darker recesses of the ruin. _I just sensed a bit of magic. Great. So the stories about witches are true?_ Alistair thought with chagrin, glancing back as Adeline tried to stand, sitting back down as she looked sick.

oOo

"Everything's still a bit wobbly," I admitted once I sat back down; I had tried to stand, but the world began spinning around me, making me feel ill.

"Just rest here for a while – we'll look around here for the scrolls while you recover," Alistair said, patting my shoulder gently.

Daveth had been watching the two of us, a look of amusement on his face as he leaned lightly against the cracked, moss-covered wall. He nodded towards a large, broken chest in the corner of the room, spotting the Grey Warden seal on it. "You think that's what we're looking for?" he asked, and Alistair walked over to it, rummaging around the cracked box.

"…I'm afraid so. If the chest is broken, the treaties are probably long gone, either stolen, or ruined by the elements," Alistair sighed, standing and crossing his arms, lost in thought. I stiffened, hearing something to my right, and I looked up at a nearby stone ramp, flinching; a Chasind-looking woman had been watching us in silence for Maker-knows how long.

She had pitch-black hair tied up in a messy bun, with long, wild bangs that framed her face, her piercing eyes a strange yellow, almost cat-like as they gazed over us carefully. She wore a burgundy robe that fell loosely over her shoulders – more a ragged shawl than a robe, really – with a large bronze and bone necklace covering her collarbone, small charms hanging from it. She wore dark leggings and a skirt hung with ragged belts, and on her left arm was a shoulder pad decorated with crow feathers. A long, twisted staff was gripped lightly in her gloved hands, and she regarded us with disdain, her fingers moving absently over the staff's carved runes.

"Well, well, what have we here?" she asked, her voice light and disdainful. "Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned?" she added, and I noticed that she only addressed me, out of all of us, oddly enough. "Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?"

She walked down the stone ramp, crossing her arms as she gazed at me with those strange, golden eyes – she was a mage, and a fairly powerful one at that. "That would be a mistake, I daresay, for what shadow-dwelling prey is easy?" She regarded us coolly, nodding towards me. "What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?" she prompted, and I watched her warily, standing slowly.

I raised my chin challengingly – I didn't want to give this strange woman the satisfaction of seeing any trace of fear in my eyes. "I was under the impression that this tower once belonged to the Grey Wardens," I replied, and she let out a soft – perhaps impatient – breath, her eyes looking into mine carefully.

"'Tis a tower no longer – the Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse," she said simply, walking coolly through us, her head held high as she passed by, not threatened by us in the least, despite our arms and armor. She reminded me very much of a cat in the way she stalked past, standing on a tall rise on the other side of the room and glowering disdainfully at my companions. "I have watched your progress for some time. 'Where do they go,' I wondered, 'why are they here?' And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?" she asked, guarded curiosity playing behind the enigmatic, yellow eyes.

Alistair shuffled nervously beside me, fingering the pommel of his sword. "Don't answer her. She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby," he cautioned, and the woman threw her hands in the air tauntingly.

"Ooh, you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?" she asked derisively, and Alistair narrowed his eyes at her.

"Yes, swooping is bad," he replied under his breath, and Daveth let out a small, nervous sound as he saw the twisted staff on the woman's back.

"She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is! She'll turn us into toads!" he warned, and the woman glowered at him, crossing her arms.

" _Witch_ of the _Wilds_ ," she repeated, unimpressed, "such _idle_ fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?" She shook her head scornfully, her eyes landing on me as she looked me up and down. We gazed at one another in silence, and she nodded at me, seeming to approve of my steady, challenging eyes. "You there; Elves do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine," she said, almost ordering me.

"You may call me Adeline. A pleasure," I replied, giving her a polite nod, and she seemed surprised.

"Now that _is_ a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds. You may call me Morrigan," she replied, a faint smile on her lips. "Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?" Morrigan asked, indicating the broken chest, and Alistair narrowed his eyes at her.

"Here no longer? You _stole_ them, didn't you? You're…some kind of…sneaky… _witch-thief!_ " he fumbled with his accusation, and I bit my lip, trying to hide my amusement. Morrigan was unimpressed, crossing her arms and indicating the ruins of the tower with an absent wave of her hand.

"How very eloquent. How does one steal from dead men?" she asked, and Alistair glowered back at her.

"Quite easily, it seems. Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them," he replied firmly.

"I will not, for 'twas not _I_ who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish; I am not threatened," Morrigan said, waving a hand dismissively.

"Do you know who _did_ remove them?" I piped up, taking a step in front of Alistair, seeing his temper fraying at the woman's cryptic response.

"'Twas my mother, in fact," Morrigan answered simply, giving no indication that she would elaborate further.

"Your mother?" Ser Jory echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, my mother. Did you assume I spawned from a log?" Morrigan scoffed, tossing her head scornfully.

"A thieving, weird-talking log, perhaps," Alistair muttered, his eyes apprehensive.

"Not _all_ in the Wilds are monsters. Flowers grow, as well as toads," she replied. "If you wish, I will take you to my mother. 'Tis not far from here, and you may ask her for your papers, if you like," she offered, and I glanced around at the others.

"We _should_ get those treaties, but I dislike this… _Morrigan's_ sudden appearance. It's too convenient," Alistair said in a low voice, looking up at her suspiciously.

"Why are you so interested in helping us?" I asked, curious; she didn't seem to intend us harm. In fact, I could see just as much curiosity in her eyes as were in mine as we looked at one another.

"Why not? I do not meet many people here. Are you all so mistrustful?" Morrigan replied.

"Of strange wilder women, perhaps," I said coolly. "However, I can see you mean us no harm – you would have done something long ago, if that was your intent. I see no reason not to follow her," I directed the last comment to the others, who still looked doubtful.

"She'll put us all in the pot, she will. Just you watch," Daveth muttered darkly, looking around warily and anxiously fingering his blades.

"If the pot's warmer than this forest, it'd be a nice change," Jory replied.

"Follow me, then, if it pleases you," Morrigan said absently, walking off whether we intended to follow her or not.

We trekked through the wind-blown marshland, watching for deep mud-pits and loose ground, our footing unstable as we walked over the damp, peaty earth. I watched Morrigan curiously, her long, ragged skirt blowing in the strong wind that had picked up, the whipping belts shaped like black feathers. I blinked as my own hair whipped about my face, getting in my eyes. I tucked the strands impatiently behind my ears, eventually giving up as the wind stubbornly yanked at the fiery hair.

Alistair was watching me from the corner of his eye, and I glanced up at him, giving him a reassuring smile. "I'm alright now, Alistair – I'm not dizzy anymore," I said, and he seemed caught off guard by my words.

"O-oh. That's…good," he replied, and I raised an eyebrow. I glanced ahead, making an exasperated sound as we entered a field of tall grass, the blades rising just above my head.

"Of course!" I muttered, entering the forest of waving grass.

"Here, don't get lost Tabby," Daveth teased, placing a hand lightly on my shoulder and making sure I didn't get separated from the others.

"Thanks," I sighed, letting him direct me through the field. "So why were you freaking out before? Was it about Morrigan?" I asked in an undertone, and Daveth gave a small, nervous shrug.

"You remember the stories I told you, about the Witches of the Wilds," he replied, and I nodded.

"Right. Stealing Chasind children in the night. Somehow I'm a bit doubtful of that," I remarked, and Daveth snorted.

"Just you watch, Tabby – we'll be turned into toads before we can blink," he grumbled, and I lightly patted his arm.

"Oh, don't listen to all that superstitious nonsense, Davvy dear; it'll make you lose sleep, thinking of the barbarians _watching_ you, _waiting_ for you to get separated from the rest of us…" I teased in a spooky voice, and he made a face.

"Alright, I get the point," he snorted, crossing his arms.

As we left the field of tall grass, we came to a strange, slanted house with two floors, sitting near a tall ruin of what once had been a tower, now covered in crawling vines and moss. The lower floor of the tower was flooded by the pond that surrounded the small peninsula where the house stood, and patches of bulrushes and cattails waved in the cool breeze that picked up.

An old woman with wild hair stood outside of the strange building, her arms crossed as she watched our approach. Her eyes were dark brown, contemplating each of us coolly; her gaze was powerful, almost regal, and I suppressed a shiver as I sensed something strange. The air around her almost crackled with energy, and I knew instinctively that she was a very powerful mage – Morrigan's own power was like a drop of water in a vast lake compared to this woman.

"Greetings, Mother. I bring before you four Grey Wardens who–" Morrigan began, walking over to her mother, but the old woman waved a hand dismissively, nodding towards us.

"I see them, girl. Mmm. Much as I expected," she said, her low voice reminding me of the growl of an old cat. She looked at each of us for a few moments, seeming unimpressed.

"Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?" Alistair replied skeptically, and the old woman pushed herself off the wall, walking over and standing before our group, Morrigan taking her place on her mother's left side.

"You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide…either way, one's a fool!" the woman rambled, and Daveth stared at her with round eyes, his face pale.

"She's a witch, I tell you! We shouldn't be talking to her!" he pleaded, and I made a face, glaring at him to be quiet.

"Quiet, Daveth! If she's really a witch, do you want to make her mad?" Jory retorted, voicing my thoughts, and the old woman nodded, brushing wild, silver-grey hair out of her dark eyes.

"There is a smart lad. Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides. Believe what you will," she said absently, her eyes meeting mine. "And what of you? Does your Elven mind give you a different viewpoint? What do _you_ believe?" she asked, looking right at me.

"Believed or not, some things must be accepted," I replied, keeping my tone level as our eyes locked. This woman wasn't just an ordinary mage; there was something wrong with her. _Horribly_ wrong – her eyes flashed yellow for a fraction of a second, her pupils slit like a cat's, and I felt my jaw tighten as I tried not to flinch with surprise. She seemed to sense the hint of fear in me, cackling.

"Ha! There lies the answer I hoped to get. An open mind, yet not made of mush. Am I simply complimenting you? Wait and see!" she grinned, almost taunting me. "So much about you is uncertain…" she murmured, crossing her arms and looking at me thoughtfully. "Hmm…there is darkness in you, girl, raw power clawing to get out, tearing at you from the inside," she remarked cryptically. "Ha! And you don't even know it's there!" the old woman cackled, and I glanced at the others, confused.

"So _this_ is a dreaded Witch of the Wilds?" Alistair asked, doubting Daveth's theory.

"Witch of the Wilds, eh? Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it! Oh, how she dances under the moon!" the woman cackled, and Morrigan pinched the bridge of her nose, looking down in mortification, her cheeks faintly pink.

"They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother," she reminded weakly, and the old woman sniffed, nodding.

"True, they came for their treaties, yes?" the old witch rumbled. "And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these," she added, taking a small sealed tube out of her apron and tossing it to Alistair, who caught it deftly. She really _had_ been expecting us, then, to have been holding onto the treaties in her apron pocket, I supposed.

"You…oh. You protected them?" Alistair asked in surprise, opening the sealed tube and looking over the old papers, satisfied that they were indeed what we were searching for.

"And why not? Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight's threat is greater than they realize!" the witch warned us, and I glanced back at the others.

"Thank you for returning them," I said, giving a polite bow.

"Such manners! Always in the last place you look. Like stockings!" the old woman chuckled. _She's mad…but extremely dangerous. At least she has no reason to harm us,_ I thought, trying to keep my suspicions at bay. "Oh, do not mind me. You have what you came for!" the old woman added, and Morrigan took a step forward.

"Time for you to go, then," the young woman said, and her mother scoffed.

"Do not be _ridiculous_ , girl. These are your _guests_ ," she reminded her daughter, and Morrigan made a face, nodding reluctantly.

"Oh, very well. I will show you out of the woods. Follow me," she sighed, motioning for us to come along.

oooo

As we walked back towards the camp, Alistair noticed that I was on edge, tapping my shoulder lightly. I jumped, glancing up at him. "What is it?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"You seem tense. Were you…afraid of that crazy old bat?" he asked almost teasingly, and I frowned at him.

"…maybe a little," I admitted. "What she said about me…about the darkness…what do you think she meant by that?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"I don't know. Honestly, she might have just said it to unsettle you," he replied, and I crossed my arms, chewing nervously at my lip.

"Mmm…well consider me unsettled, then," I murmured, glancing towards the sunset, the fading light painting everything orange and faint pink. "I'm surprised _you_ didn't say anything about her being a mage," I added absently, and Alistair raised an eyebrow. "Don't Templars have the ability to sense that kind of thing?"

"…how did you know she was a mage?" he asked curiously, and I rolled my eyes.

"Besides the fact that she's a creepy old woman living in the middle of a forest, who seems to know more than she should, and who has a daughter carrying an obviously magical staff on her back? Lucky guess," I replied, and he laughed.

"Alright, you have a point there," he said with a grin.

"Don't trouble yourself over it Tabby; we should concentrate on the Joining," Daveth piped up, and I smiled faintly at the rogue, nodding and trying to put it out of my head.

"So why _do_ you call her Tabby?" Alistair asked Daveth curiously as I walked a little ways ahead of them with Jory, following Morrigan closely through the tall grass.

"Hmm? Oh, 'cause her last name's Tabris, and she's jumpy as a cat," Daveth replied. "Why?"

"Oh, just curious," Alistair replied.

"Curious about my Tabby, eh?" Daveth repeated in a lower, teasing tone, and I made a face.

"I'm not _your_ Tabby, Davvy," I replied, glancing back at the two.

"Aw, you've gone and hurt my feelings there," he teased, and I rolled my eyes at him.

"Whatever you say."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	6. Chapter 6: Joining

Chapter 6: Joining

Disclaimer - I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The moon was hanging high overhead when we met up with Duncan, finding him by the large bonfire near the kennels. "So you return from the Wilds. Have you been successful?" he asked, and Alistair nodded, handing him the treaties. Duncan looked over them quickly before putting them back in the protective tube, giving them to Alistair for safekeeping. "Good. I've had the Circle mages preparing. With the blood you've retrieved, we can begin the Joining immediately," he prompted.

"I'm ready," I replied, and he nodded.

"Excellent. You will need that courage to face what comes next," Duncan said, and Daveth looked at him oddly. I glanced up at him as well, not liking the ominous sound of his words.

"Courage? How much danger are we in?" the ranger asked, and Duncan gave a small sigh.

"I will not lie; we Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may decree that you pay your price now rather than later," the Grey Warden explained, and I raised an eyebrow. _Pay our price…? Wait…is_ _ **this**_ _what Alistair almost let slip? 'S' for 'if we_ _ **survive?**_ _'_

"So…you're saying this could kill us?" I concluded, and Duncan nodded.

"As could any darkspawn you might face in battle. You would not have been chosen, however, if I did not think you had a chance to survive," Duncan said firmly, and I was glad of his confidence in us – it was more than _I_ had at the moment, at least.

"Let's go, then. I'm anxious to see this Joining now," Daveth said, fidgeting with excitement.

"I agree. Let's have it done," Jory added, and I nodded.

"Then let us begin. Alistair, take them to the old temple," Duncan instructed, and Alistair nodded, motioning for the rest of us to follow. My stomach was in knots, caught between excitement and fear, and I glanced up at Daveth as his eyes shone. _At least_ _ **someone's**_ _eager to do this,_ I thought, taking in a quiet, calming breath and walking alongside the others.

We followed Alistair up past the mage's encampment and the quartermaster to the spot where I had seen him arguing with the mage earlier that day. A low stone table had been brought over, and the pillars had been hung with silver banners bearing the mark of the Grey Wardens, a pair of white griffins rearing on their hind legs, mouths open as they roared. A shining silver chalice and curved knife sat on the table, almost burning white under the light of the full moon.

We stood in silence for a few minutes as Alistair began arranging things on the table, occasionally glancing back at us, a strange, anxious look on his face. Once he was done, he leaned against a wall, rolling what looked like a large, gold token over his fingers. "The more I hear about this Joining, the less I like it," Jory mumbled under his breath, once he saw the curved blade nearby, and Daveth made an impatient sound in his throat, crossing his arms at the nervous knight.

"Are you blubbering again?" he groaned, scowling, and Jory glared back at him.

"Why all these damned tests? Have I not earned my place?" Jory asserted, and Daveth glanced at me, rolling his eyes at the note of entitlement in the man's voice.

"Maybe it's tradition. Maybe they're just trying to annoy you," he replied, a harsh bite entering his tone at his irritation – he was nervous, and taking out his frustration on Jory.

"Flaming mother of _Andraste_ , will you two quit chattering? My head's still throbbing from that buckler to the face," I grumbled at them, massaging my temples and catching a glare from the red-haired knight.

"I only know that my wife is in Highever with a child on the way. If they had warned me...it just doesn't seem fair!" the man complained, and Daveth threw his hands in the air.

"Would you have come if they'd warned you? Maybe that's why they don't. The Wardens do what they must, right?" Daveth reasoned, and Jory made a face at him.

"Including _sacrificing_ us?" he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice as he pointed to the shining blade. "I have heard that the Wardens have used blood magic to–" he gibbered, and Daveth set his jaw, his tone determined as he cut Jory off.

"I'd sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight," he growled, and I looked up at him with new respect; I didn't know Daveth felt so strongly about this.

"He makes a good point," I said to Jory, and Daveth glanced down, appreciating my support.

"You saw those darkspawn, ser knight. Wouldn't you die to protect your pretty wife from them?" Daveth asked, more gently, and Jory opened and closed his mouth a few times, cowed. "Maybe you'll die. Maybe we'll _all_ die. If nobody stops the darkspawn, we'll die for sure," Daveth argued, and Jory looked at him with anxiety in his tone.

"I've just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade," the knight sighed, glancing up as Duncan arrived, bringing our discussion to a close.

"At last we come to the Joining," his rich voice echoed faintly around the stone pillars, the moonlight shining off of his armor and blades. "The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation," Duncan recalled, making his way to the silver chalice and blade on the table. "So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood, and mastered their taint." I glanced at Daveth, who looked surprised that he had guessed correctly – we actually _were_ going to drink darkspawn blood.

Duncan took one of the vials of blood we had retrieved, uncorking it and spilling the dark liquid into the chalice. He added a few more ingredients to the chalice, and I could hear the cup's contents boiling and churning of its own accord. A tight knot formed in my stomach as I felt a strange twinge, glancing around – a quiet, captivating song had begun, thrumming low and seeming to pulsate around me, and I recognized the faint echo of the voice from my dreams. Jory's face had gone white as a sheet, and his hands twitched as he clenched his fists, trying to contain his fear.

"We're...going to drink the blood of those...those creatures?" he asked, horrified. Duncan slowly turned around to face him, looking at him with steady eyes.

"As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you. _This_ is the source of our power, and our victory," Duncan explained. I realized that the whispering, sibilant voice was coming from the blood, and I swallowed slightly, a jolt of fear going through me. _Calm down, calm down. You can do this Adeline. You need to stay strong,_ I took a quiet breath, settling the shaking down as I looked steadily up at Duncan.

"Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn, and use it to slay the archdemon," Alistair added.

"Those…who survive?" I echoed, staring up into Alistair's eyes as he looked over each of us, a hint of sadness in his tone.

"Not all who drink the blood will survive, and those who do are forever changed. This is why the Joining is a secret; it is the price we pay," he replied softly.

"We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?" Duncan prompted, and Alistair nodded, stepping forward and lowering his head respectfully.

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you," he said solemnly, glancing up as Duncan held the chalice, the burning, silver cup pulsating in the dark.

"Daveth, step forward," Duncan commanded. I looked up at my friend, clasping his arm and giving him an encouraging look.

"Good luck, my friend," I whispered to him as he pressed his forehead against mine, smiling gratefully at me.

"You too," he murmured. He turned, walking over to Duncan with his head held high, taking the cup from the Grey Warden's hands with an air of determination.

He raised the chalice to his lips, downing the contents and gasping as it burned his mouth and throat. His hands twitched, and he dropped the cup with a chiming clatter as it bounced off the stones, clutching at his throat in agony. He screamed, his eyes rolling back in his head, and he bellowed at the sky, his body seeming to crumble in on itself as he collapsed, twitching and growing still.

"Maker's breath!" Ser Jory gasped from beside me, staring at the body in horror.

"Daveth…" I breathed, my fingers trembling as I looked at him, heartbeat picking up. I closed my eyes, remorse going through me as I bowed my head respectfully; he would have made a good Warden, of that, I was certain. "Maker guide you…" I murmured, placing a hand over my heart.

"I am sorry, Daveth," Duncan said softly, retrieving the chalice from where it had fallen, preparing the second dose. "Step forward, Jory," he commanded, facing the frantic knight. Ser Jory backed away, drawing his sword and holding it between him and Duncan, his eyes glazing over with sheer terror as he shook his head.

"But...I have a wife. A child! Had I known..." he stammered, and Duncan looked at him levelly, placing the chalice down and lifting the curved blade from the table.

"There is no turning back," the Grey Warden said calmly, and Ser Jory gasped, sobbing frantically as Duncan approached.

"No! You ask too much! There is no glory in this!" Jory yelled, attacking Duncan. The older man knocked the blade from Jory's hands, stabbing him in the heart, the knight's body convulsing and sliding down the wall as he died.

"I am sorry," Duncan whispered, placing the bloodied blade on the table, taking the chalice delicately in his hands.

"Adeline, step forward," Duncan ordered, and I stepped stiffly forward, swallowing hard and taking the chalice in my trembling fingers. "You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good," he said, watching as I tipped the cup, downing the burning liquid. "From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden."

I felt the hot blood sliding down my throat like boiling oil, screaming in agony as it sent arcs of pain throughout my being. I clutched my head, the world fading in and out around me, bursts of light and dark making me stagger and collapse as everything turned black.

oOo

Alistair watched in silence as Daveth and Adeline stood together, clasping arms and pressing their foreheads together. _I hope they both make it… They seem so close…_ he thought, his heart tightening with anxiety as the ranger stepped forward, taking the chalice from Duncan as it was offered. He took a slow breath and braced himself, drinking deeply from the chalice. _Something's wrong. Oh Maker…_ Alistair watched as Daveth gurgled out a strangled scream, clutching at his throat, his eyes rolling back in his head as he collapsed.

 _The knight's going to go off,_ he guessed, narrowing his eyes as Jory began to panic. "Maker's breath!" the knight exclaimed in fear, taking a hurried step back. _That's about what I'd expect,_ Alistair thought, glancing at Adeline. She looked surprised, her eyes wide in shock.

"Daveth…" she murmured, closing her eyes and taking a slow, calming breath, placing a hand over her heart. "Maker guide you…" she whispered. _I'm sorry…_ Alistair looked at the Elf sadly. There was something about her calm, quiet acceptance of this that he had to admire; she wasn't going to lose her head here. He had been able to tell that from the moment they entered the Wilds – she might have been jumpy, but she wasn't the type to panic.

"I am sorry, Daveth," Duncan sighed as he knelt, picking up the chalice from the ground. He prepared a second dose, and Alistair could faintly sense the pulsating energy of the lyrium powder and hear the whispering, humming sound of the tainted blood as the older Grey Warden mixed the ingredients together. "Step forward, Jory," Duncan said as he faced Jory, who backed away, his eyes wide with fear as he shook his head quickly.

 _Perfect,_ Alistair almost sighed, watching as Jory pulled a blade on Duncan. "But...I have a wife. A child! Had I known…" Jory argued, his back against the wall as Duncan set down the chalice, picking up the curved knife that shone silver on the table. _Maker…is he going to…?_ Alistair's eyes widened as Duncan advanced on the terrified knight.

"There is no turning back," Duncan's voice was calm, and Jory stared at him in horror.

"No! You ask too much! There is no glory in this!" Jory wailed, attacking Duncan. Alistair cringed as Duncan killed the man, the older Grey Warden's eyes regretful.

"I am sorry," Duncan whispered sadly as he put the blade down, retrieving the chalice and looked at Adeline. "Adeline, step forward," he ordered, and the girl's eyes went blank for a moment before she managed to calm herself. She took the chalice without a word, downing the liquid. "You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good," Duncan spoke solemnly. "From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden."

Alistair stiffened, staring at the Elf. _Oh no…is she…?_ He began to panic – she gasped, gripping her head in her hands and letting out a wail, eyes rolling back and going white. Blood suddenly pooled out of her eyes, pouring down her face like tears, and out of her nose, dripping into her mouth as her muscles went rigid. Even Duncan looked surprised – he had never seen anything like this before.

The girl's body went slack, and as she collapsed, Alistair leapt forward, catching her before she could crack her skull against the stones of the temple floor. "Maker's breath!" he gasped, staring down at her – she was unnaturally pale, her lips and the tips of her fingers turning blue…and yet her chest was rising and falling slowly, but steadily. "…Duncan?" Alistair asked in confusion, and the older man shook his head.

"She will live, though I…do not know what that was," the Grey Warden admitted, staring at the Elf with uncertainty. He thought back to what she had told him – that she had felt something strange from the Wilds when they had come to Orzammar. There was something…different about her; he had been able to tell that the moment he had spotted her in the Alienage. _Perhaps…after the battle, we might try to figure this out,_ Duncan thought, watching as Alistair gently set Adeline on the ground. The younger Grey Warden took out his kerchief, dabbing carefully at the blood on her face, and Duncan watched him, seeing the look of worry in his eyes. "She will be fine, Alistair," he assured the young man, but Alistair shook his head.

"I wouldn't be surprised if she hated us, after all that's happened. Daveth told me she didn't like humans very much to _begin_ with," Alistair sighed.

"She is stronger than you think – time and companionship will heal the wounds in her heart," Duncan said quietly, kneeling next to Adeline, across from Alistair. The younger Warden looked up at him, curious at his words.

"How do you mean?" Alistair asked, and Duncan smiled slightly. He could see that the young man was already quite fond of the girl – many of the Grey Wardens she had traveled with already had also taken a liking to her; Duncan had noticed that Adeline had a certain…quality that seemed to draw people to her.

"She will speak in her own time; her past is her own, and it is not my place to speak of her personal matters," the older man replied, and Alistair nodded, respecting his word. He looked down, sighing with relief as Adeline began to stir, her lips moving slightly as her eyes fluttered open. She looked around blearily, as if she didn't know where she was.

"It is finished. Welcome," Duncan said with finality, and a bolt of mixed excitement and fear ran through Alistair. _She made it, thank the Maker. But…she'll hate us for sure. At the very least, she'll feel like we betrayed her,_ Alistair almost sighed with regret, helping the girl into a sitting position, placing a hand on her back to steady her.

oOo

 _I was falling through darkness, and a sweet sound called to me. It was a voice, echoing in the distance, the most beautiful voice I had ever heard. I longed to follow the enchanting echo, wanting to be one with the euphoric song that flowed past me. I gasped, faint, red firelight revealing a vast cavern, with a great, ruined structure ahead, a crumbling stone bridge crossing a gorge that looked a half-mile deep. Burning lights flickered below, each one a torch held by a darkspawn, and on the bridge, staring right at me, was the great, misshapen form of a dragon, its spines and muscles twisted into a horrifying bastardization of what it had once been. If I could not see it before me, I never would have believed that such a horrifying creature housed such a wondrous, hypnotic voice._

 _I fell past the dragon, looking back up at it and sensing, knowing, that this was the archdemon Duncan and Alistair had spoken of. It stared at me, seeming to feel my presence, and it roared, the echoing bellow shaking the walls of the cavern with its volume._

oooo

I came-to, feeling the sensation of my back on a cold stone floor, my head throbbing in agony. "It is finished. Welcome," Duncan said. Alistair sat beside me, helping me into a sitting position as I massaged the back of my head, cringing in pain.

"Two more deaths," Alistair murmured. "In my Joining, only one of us died, but it was…horrible. I'm glad at least one of you made it through," he sighed, shaking his head.

"The pain…was worse than anything I've ever felt," I breathed, shutting my eyes tightly and gritting my teeth as a fresh wave of heat went through my skull, spreading through my body in a dull, throbbing pulse.

"Such is what it takes to be a Grey Warden," Duncan replied, his eyes sad as he looked at the bodies of Daveth and Jory.

"Did you have dreams? I had terrible dreams after my Joining," Alistair admitted, and I nodded, thinking about the dragon with a shudder.

"Such dreams come when you begin to sense the darkspawn, as we all do. That and many other things can be explained in the months to come," Duncan said, helping me get to my feet. I wobbled a bit, and he held out his arm for support.

"Before I forget, there is one last part to your Joining," Alistair said, walking over to the table and fiddling with something. "We take some of that blood and put it in a pendant. Something to remind us…of those who didn't make it this far," he explained, returning with the pendant and putting it around my neck as I lowered my head.

"I…I feel a bit shocked…" I murmured, taking a few deep breaths, letting go of Duncan's arm as I regained my composure.

"Death is never easy to accept, especially when it arrives in such a brutal fashion," he replied gently. "Honor your comrades if you wish, but know that we must press forward. Always, we must press forward."

"You should get some rest – the battle's in two days, and the king wants you at the strategy meeting," Alistair added, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Uh…why? I don't think I'm exactly… _qualified_ for that," I asked, and he shrugged.

"I am not sure why he has requested your presence, either, but I would suggest you attend, regardless," Duncan said, and I nodded, walking back to the Grey Warden tent with Alistair. I was still a bit unsteady, and Alistair leant me his arm for support, which I took gratefully.

"So what about the bodies?" I asked, standing outside of the tent and looking back towards the temple.

"Duncan and I will see that they're sent back to their families. I'm sorry that we kept the Joining a secret, but you can see why, can't you?" Alistair asked, and I nodded. "I'm…sorry about Daveth, as well. You two seemed very close," Alistair added, and I gave him a sad smile.

"I'm not going to break down into a sobbing mess, Alistair," I assured him, and he gave me a sad look, seeing the pain in my eyes, despite my attempt to hide it. I massaged the back of my head, cringing slightly as a fresh wave of pain pulsed through me. "Ung, hell of a migraine, though," I added with a small sigh.

"Try to sleep it off; we've got a long day tomorrow," Alistair said quietly, bidding me goodnight before returning to the temple to help Duncan clean up.

oooo

That night, I had horrible nightmares, the archdemon roaring, his voice no longer sweet and hypnotic as he saw me falling through the abyss. I woke up drenched in sweat, looking around the tent and covering my mouth as I gasped for breath, trying not to wake the others. I ran a shaky hand over my forehead and through my hair, looking at the bandage on my left arm and sighing, standing slowly and walking quietly past Alistair and Duncan's sleeping forms. I wondered where the other Grey Wardens were; I hadn't seen them since that morning, when we had come to Ostagar. Perhaps they were camped further out in the valley?

I wandered through the dark camp, avoiding the patrols as sentries marched, changing shifts, and I made my way to the sheer cliffs, to the west of the army camp. Great ruins stood, perhaps the remnants of large, elaborate balconies and towers, clinging to the side of the cliff, the wind singing as it blew over the deep, pine woods below. A great mountain stood in the distance, and the red moon sailed over it, almost resting on the tip.

I found a small grassy patch near a lone pine tree, letting out a quiet sigh and sitting down, looking up at the constellations in the clear sky. I tugged at the thin leather cord around my neck, pulling out Nelaros's ring and holding the gold band between my fingers, contemplating it quietly. "Well, it looks like fate enjoys my misery. I'll…try to be strong, Nelaros; I shouldn't cry so much," I sighed, feeling the tears rolling out of the corners of my eyes and down my cheeks. I ran a finger over the ring Duran had given me as well, tracing out the symbol of House Aeducan.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and singing an old song in Elvish – a song meant to lay the souls of the dead to rest. I sang for Daveth…but also for Nelaros; I hadn't gotten the chance to send him off properly.

oOo

Alistair shifted slightly in his bedroll, hearing Adeline gasping in short, panicked breaths, letting out a soft sob as she covered her mouth. He listened as the girl stood and walked quietly out of the tent, her feet hardly making a sound as she moved. He waited for a few heartbeats in silence before sitting up, looking at the entrance flap. _She must have had a nightmare,_ he thought, running a hand through his tawny hair and glancing down at Adeline's things. He spotted a small sheet of paper nearby – a letter, it looked like – and he bit his lip, curious. _I wonder who she's writing to. Family perhaps?_

He curbed his curiosity, not wanting to pry, and he stood quietly, glancing at Duncan and trying not to wake the older man as he walked through the tent. He pushed aside the tent flap, stepping out into the cool spring evening and looking up at the clear sky, taking in a deep breath. The faint tingle in the back of his head was a constant reminder of the darkspawn horde deep in the Wilds, and he looked out into the pine forest, and towards the mountains.

Alistair treaded slowly through the camp, greeting sentries quietly as they nodded, saying 'evening Warden', as he passed. Even after six months, the title still caught him off guard a bit, and he smiled inwardly, trying not to shake his head. He could see a small shape in the distance, sitting beneath a lone pine tree, and a high, clear voice drifted towards him on the wind. The song was in a language he didn't know, but he could feel the power in it, the hair rising on the back of his neck as his heartbeat picked up slightly.

 _Hahren na melana sahlin  
emma ir abelas  
souver'inan isala hamin  
vhenan him dor'felas  
in uthenera na revas_

vir sulahn'nehn  
vir dirthera  
vir samahl la numin  
vir lath sa'vunin

 _Is that…Elvish?_ Alistair wondered, listening to Adeline's voice and closing his eyes, a wave of sadness going through him and making his heart tighten. He could hear the pain in her words – _Duncan was right…this isn't just about Daveth,_ he thought; _she's been through more than she lets on._

oOo

I tucked away the pair of rings, wiping hurriedly at my tears as I heard someone approach, glancing up. "Can't sleep?" Alistair asked quietly, sitting down next to me and looking at me carefully. He could see the redness in my eyes, I was sure, and I shrugged weakly.

"Just…just a little restless," I replied, my voice trembling slightly. I took a deep breath, calming down. "Did you…come looking for me?" I asked in a slightly lighter tone, and he smiled faintly.

"I heard you wake up, but I thought you might want a bit of time to yourself," he explained, and I curled my knees up to my chin, nodding in thanks.

We were quiet for a while, and I let my eyes wander over the young Grey Warden. He was well-built, perhaps from his years of training to become a Templar, with broad shoulders and strong arms. His eyes were soft brown, gentle and curious as he looked about the scenery, watching the moon. His face was lean, and oddly familiar, and I saw his neck and ears growing red as he noticed my searching stare. I gave him a half-smile as he glanced back at me.

"You can look at me too, if it makes you feel better," I teased, and he made a small, tense sound in his throat, looking away awkwardly.

"Um…do you want to talk about it? About Daveth?" Alistair asked quickly, wanting to change the subject, and I smiled sadly, shrugging.

"Mmm…not much to tell, honestly. He came to Denerim six years ago – we met when we were trying to cut the same merchant's purse," I recalled with a small laugh. "I saved his hide when we got caught, losing the garrison in the Poor Quarter. After that, we came to an agreement," I explained.

"You were a cutpurse?" Alistair asked, and I snorted.

"Oh, don't pretend you haven't thought about it. I'm an Elf from Denerim – I'm either a servant, a cutpurse, or a prostitute," I scoffed, a hint of distaste in my tone.

"You…don't like humans much, I take it?" Alistair observed, a bit guarded, and I looked up at him with surprise at his nervous tone.

"Well, not _all_ humans are bad, I suppose – I'm fine with Duncan and the other Wardens, and with you," I replied. He seemed a bit relieved at my words, and I smiled.

"I…thought you'd hate us after the Joining," he admitted softly, and I looked at him quietly, seeing the hint of anxiety in his eyes.

"I don't," I replied gently. "You couldn't control the outcome. I don't blame you or anything – Grey Wardens are needed…even if some meet their fate sooner than others," I sighed, looking out over the basin of pine trees below. "But…you really thought I'd hate you?" I asked, my tone slightly more upbeat, and Alistair shrugged.

"I thought you'd be angry, at least. _I_ was; I felt betrayed, and nearly punched a hole in the wall," Alistair replied, and I raised an eyebrow.

"You've got a temper? You seem so mild-mannered," I remarked with surprise, and he snorted.

"You've known me for a _day_. Not even," he replied, and I laughed at his tone.

"Oh-ho, there it is," I grinned, and he smiled slightly. I pulled my knees up to my chest, resting my chin on me kneecaps. "But you know…" I began, "you really aren't what I was expecting." He looked a bit confused by my words, cocking his head.

"What were you expecting?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"I don't know," I admitted with a soft chuckle. "But…when you were treating my injuries earlier today, you were so…gentle," I murmured, my ears reddening as I thought about it.

"Well, you were hurt," Alistair replied. _Oh. Right_. _Wow, I'm really reading too much into this – he's blushing because he's_ _ **shy**_ _,_ I thought, recalling what Kevan had said.

"Umm…thank you, for that, by the way," I said, "I don't think I thanked you properly."

He smiled slightly, reaching out and very gently taking my injured hand. "You're welcome," he murmured. "Although…you'll still need to get your wounds looked at – my first-aid is good for the field, but I'm not really a healer," he admitted with a chuckle, and I smiled.

"Still, I appreciate it," I remarked. "Now, let's get back to the tent before you start thinking we're _friends_ or something," I joked, standing and offering my uninjured hand, helping Alistair to his feet as he grinned at me.

"As you wish, 'not friend'," he replied cheekily, and I smiled as we headed back to the tent. _Hmph. I like this guy already. I guess one out of every thousand shems isn't so bad after all._

oooo

The next day, Alistair and I walked around camp, preparing for the battle the next day and helping in any way we could. We headed up to the infirmary, and I spotted a man in rags sitting in a large cage by a wall, a guard standing nearby looking bored, and slightly grumpy. "Wonder what's going on over here?" I murmured, wandering over and glancing curiously up at the imprisoned man.

"Heh…someone finally comes and talks to the lone prisoner? I don't suppose you've come to sentence me," the prisoner asked, and I looked up at him, slightly surprised.

"You haven't been sentenced yet?" I said, and he shook his head, leaning back against the metal bars of the cage.

"No, they put someone like me in a cage until someone _important_ has time to decide what to do with me," he replied. "I don't suppose you have a bit of kindness in you? All I want is food and water. They haven't fed me since I was locked up, and I'm starving," he added, and I pursed my lips.

"Why don't you tell me why you're in there, first," I countered, and he shrugged.

"I'm a deserter – or so they think. I bet there's no arguing them out of it, though – armies are funny that way," he explained, and I crossed my arms.

"And I bet you're as innocent as the sunrise," I remarked sarcastically, and he rolled his eyes at me, sitting up and placing his hands on the cage bars.

"I wasn't _deserting_ , but when you catch someone sneakin' around camp in the middle of the night, what else are you gonna think?" he retorted. "Does it matter? All I want is a bit of food and water," the man argued, and I raised an eyebrow.

"If you weren't deserting, why sneak around the camp?" I wondered. _Spying on people like Daveth was? Hah, Davvy was probably picking pockets, and just happened to overhear the conversation about the Joining._

"Oh, I would have deserted _eventually_ , just not then. I was stealing, not sneaking out of the camp," the prisoner explained, and I almost laughed. "I got one of those wizards drunk and took his key," he chuckled slightly. "It belongs to a chest they got here, full of magical treasures. In fact, I still have it," he added. "I can't use it from here, but I'd trade you for some food and water," he offered, and I gave Alistair a sidelong glance.

"They didn't find the key when you were arrested?" Alistair asked, his tone doubtful, and the prisoner rested his chin against the bars.

"I swallowed it," he replied. "But it's…uhhhh…come back into my possession since then, so to speak," the man murmured awkwardly, and I made a face.

"O-oh…" I stammered, suddenly not wanting the key at all.

"I bet that's an _excellent_ party trick," Alistair remarked.

"I'll…uh…see what I can do about the food," I said, and the prisoner nodded gratefully.

"Just ask my guard for his. He's still got some dinner; I saw him put it in his coat," the man said, indicating the guard, who was leaning against a tree nearby, watching some Elf messengers trotting by, followed by a red-haired Elf girl carrying a set of chain mail. Alistair and I walked over to the guard, and I cleared my throat, drawing his attention.

The guard looked at the two of us, crossing his arms and snorting slightly. "Lucky dogs. You Grey Wardens get to ride with the king while I'm left with the drudgery of guarding this deserter. They should have just hanged him. Put his head on a pike as an example," the man grumbled in a raspy voice, and I nodded towards the caged man.

"I had a chat with him, actually," I replied, and the guard shrugged.

"Don't expect it was an enlightening conversation," he remarked.

"He asked for some food and water," I explained, and the guard frowned at me.

"Did he, now? Since nobody sends me nothing to _feed_ him with, the only way he'll get that is if I give him _mine_ ," the guard grumbled, and I crossed my arms, looking up at the man sternly.

"So you miss one meal – this man could be hanged soon!" I argued, and the guard glanced back at the prisoner, letting out a sigh as he saw the man giving us a pleading look.

"Alright, alright. I guess the poor fella could stand to have one meal in his belly before he hangs. Don't know why _you_ care," the guard relented, handing me a hunk of bread and his water-skin. "I had nothin' to do with it, though. If anyone asks why he's burpin', I'm gonna say it was _you_ , just so you know," he added quickly, and I nodded, thanking him.

"So…? Brought me some food, have you? I'm so hungry I could faint dead away," the prisoner asked once Alistair and I returned, and I passed the bread and water through the bars of the cage.

"Here," I said, and the prisoner smiled, tearing into the food ravenously, not seeming to mind that the crust of bread was stale, and hard as a rock.

"Much obliged. May Andraste herself rain blessings upon you! And…as I mentioned, here's the key. Use it in good health, heh," the prisoner said, holding out the key, and I made a face, holding my hands up and shaking my head.

"On second thought…just…just _keep_ the key. I don't need it. _Really_ ," I said awkwardly, and the prisoner chuckled.

"Suit yourself," the man replied, taking a draught from the water-skin. Alistair laughed at my squeamishness, and I scowled playfully at him, muttering something under my breath.

"Hey, if _you_ want it…" I began, and he shook his head.

"No, no, _you're_ the one who helped him, after all," he replied, and I rolled my eyes. "Come on, let's get your injuries treated while we're here," Alistair added, pointing towards a group of healers treating some wounded soldiers nearby. "Although…it's been a day since you got it – you might just get that battle scar you want," he added teasingly, and I laughed, shaking my head.

While a healer was tending to my wounded hand and the cut across my temple, I asked her about the white flower I had picked yesterday in the Wilds. "Hmm…try down by the kennels – I thought I heard someone mention something about white flowers," the healer said, once she had treated my wounds. She wrapped a bandage around my hand, telling me to go easy on it, and checked the cut near my temple, telling me that, indeed, it would leave a scar.

"The kennel-master was looking for flowers like that, if I recall correctly," another nurse confirmed as she overheard us, returning to tending her patient. The man was sobbing brokenly and gibbering madly about the darkspawn, and how they would consume everything like caterpillars covering a tree; it was almost disturbing to see a grown man reduced to tears like that.

"May as well try," I shrugged, thanking the healers and walking down the stone ramp, finding the kennel-master as he looked into a locked pen, a sick mabari whining and coughing weakly, whimpering as he lay on a bed of straw.

"Hmmm. This isn't good. I'd hate to waste such a promising member of the breed," I heard the kennel-master say, looking sadly at a mabari hound in a fenced-off area. The dog was very big, with broad, muscular shoulders and a barrel-chest, his eyes glazed over in pain. "Are you the new Warden? I could use some help," the man asked, spotting me as I approached.

"I…uh…don't know anything about dogs," I admitted, glancing over the wooden fence at the miserable hound, hearing him whining faintly. Alistair looked sadly at him, feeling bad that the dog was in such pain.

"It's not what you _know_ so much as what you _are_ , really," the kennel-master replied. "This is a mabari. Smart breed, and strong. His owner died in the last battle, and the poor hound swallowed darkspawn blood," he explained.

"Poor thing will die a slow, painful death from that," Alistair murmured, his eyes full of pity.

"I have medicine that might help, but I need him muzzled first," the kennel-master said, holding up the muzzle.

"Maybe you can help him, Alistair?" I suggested, and the young man snorted.

"Nope. Dogs and I don't get along. You do it, if you're so eager. Leave me out of it," he replied, and I crossed my arms.

"You're going to let a tiny Elf woman wrestle a muzzle onto a two-hundred pound dog?" I asked teasingly, and he rolled his eyes. "Aw, you're no fun. Alright, I'll see what I can do," I said, taking the muzzle. "Wait…why do you think _I_ could muzzle him?" I asked suspiciously, already inside the dog's pen. "This had better not be because I'm an Elf," I added, pointing angrily at him, and the kennel-master shook his head quickly, seeing my look.

"You're a Grey Warden. All Wardens are immune to the darkspawn taint," the kennel-master replied, and I narrowed my eyes at him, not liking what he was implying. "The most you have to worry about is some tooth marks."

"Right. Tooth marks. And a bloody stump of what's left of my hand," I muttered, shaking my head.

"Just let him smell you. We'll know right away if he'll respond," the kennel-master prompted. "Let's hope this works. I would really hate to have to put him down."

"Come here puppy…nice puppy…" I called gently, walking over slowly to the mabari as he watched me, his eyes pained, but bright with intelligence. He growled a little as I approached, but let me slide the muzzle over his head. "Now was that so bad?" I whispered, stroking the dog's head gently, and he let out a quiet whine, licking my fingers weakly.

"Well done! Now I can treat the dog properly – poor fellow," the kennel-master said, once I had come out of the pen. "Come to think of it, are you heading into the Wilds any time soon?" he asked, and I glanced back at Alistair.

"We were out there yesterday," I replied, and the man looked back at the sick mabari.

"There's a particular herb I could use to improve the dog's chances. It's a flower that grows in the swamps here, if I remember," he explained.

"What does the herb you need look like?" I asked, thinking about what the healers had mentioned earlier.

"It's very distinctive; all white with a blood-red center," he described.

"Here, I found some of those yesterday," I said, opening the ingredient pouch at my side and handing him the flowers.

"Let me see…yes, that's exactly it, wonderful! Give me a moment and I'll make these into an ointment," the man said. He made an ointment and treated the dog, who looked up at us gratefully, his eyes a little less pained. "He looks better already. I'm sure he'd thank you himself, if he could," the kennel-master said, wiping his hands on a rag and locking the gate.

"How long before there's an improvement?" I asked, looking at the dog.

"A day, maybe two. There's enough ointment for him to make a full recovery," the man replied. "Why not come back after the battle? Perhaps we can see about imprinting him on you," he offered, and I looked at him with surprise.

"Really? But…I wouldn't know how to take care of him," I replied, and the man shrugged, leaning against the fence.

"You'd be surprised; it could be the other way around. Mabari are supremely intelligent, and they're excellent hunters and fighters," he explained.

"Huh…" I murmured. "I'll think about it."

"Come back after the battle and just…take another look," the man insisted, and I nodded.

As Alistair and I walked through the camp, I asked him about the Grey Wardens. "Where are all the Grey Wardens now?" I asked, curious – Alistair and Duncan were the only other Wardens I had seen all morning, though I was told that the others were still in Ostagar.

"The others are camped with the king's soldiers further in the valley. The king's given us a position of honor at the vanguard, despite our small numbers," Alistair explained, and I nodded; the king seemed to hold us in high regard. "I think Cailan is actually _excited_ to ride into battle with us. Maybe he thinks that's what his father would've done?"

"Hm, maybe – he seemed to look forward to the battle when I met him," I replied. "So how did you become a Grey Warden?" I asked, and Alistair glanced back at me.

"Same way you did. You drink some blood, you choke on it and pass out. You haven't forgotten already, have you?" he teased, and I rolled my eyes at him.

"Ha-ha, very funny," I replied sarcastically.

"I do my best. What can I say?" Alistair grinned. We stood by some ruins that hung over the side of the cliff, looking out towards the dark sea of pine trees. I sat down, hanging my legs over the side and looking up at Alistair as he did the same. "Let's see, I was in the Chantry before. I trained for many years to become a Templar, in fact. That's where I learned most of my skills," he explained, and I cocked my head, looking at him oddly.

"You don't seem like the religious sort," I remarked, and he chuckled, nodding.

"You're telling me – I was banished to the kitchens to scour the pots more times than I can count. And that's a lot; I can count pretty high," he replied. "The Grand Cleric didn't want to let me go. Duncan was forced to conscript me, actually, and was she _ever_ furious when he did. I thought she was going to have us both arrested. I was lucky."

"You think Duncan took pity on you?" I asked, and Alistair shrugged, looking out over the Wilds, towards the mountains that rose high in the distance like jagged teeth.

"I don't know. Maybe," he admitted. "When he came looking for recruits, I just remember praying fervently to the Maker that he would pick me," Alistair recalled, a hint of sadness in his voice. "I'll always be thankful to Duncan for recruiting me," he finished.

"He's a good man," I said, and Alistair nodded.

"He is," he replied. "Hmm…so how about you? How did Duncan find you?" he asked curiously, and I shrugged.

"Well…Duncan met me about…three months ago, I think, back in Denerim. He was visiting the Hahren – the Elder of the Alienage – and he didn't say it at the time, but he told me later that he had been looking for recruits; for _me_ , actually," I explained, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Are you secretly a famous swordswoman or something?" he joked.

" _Hardly,_ " I chuckled. "Duncan knew my mother – she passed her martial training on to me," I replied. "Unfortunately, I didn't really get to speak much about it with him. There was some…uh… _unpleasantness_ in Denerim involving some very important people," I murmured awkwardly. "The _short_ story is that things happened, somebody ended up dead, and I had to leave the city quickly. So I got out of Denerim and went to Orzammar; I spent a few weeks there and tried to hire myself out as a sell-sword," I explained, and Alistair raised an eyebrow.

"Really? A skinny thing like you?" he teased, and I rolled my eyes.

"Oh shut up – muscle isn't everything," I snorted, elbowing his arm lightly. " _Anyway,_ I eventually convinced an expedition to let me join; _that's_ where I fought my first darkspawn," I continued.

"Wait, so why'd you want to go to the Deep Roads?" Alistair asked, and I shrugged.

"I…don't know. I just felt a…a _call_ , for lack of a better word. Something told me that I _needed_ to go to Orzammar, and from there, into the Deep Roads. There's…something down there – something important; I can feel it. I just don't know _what_ ," I replied. He was looking at me strangely, the same way that the other Grey Wardens had when I mentioned getting a bad feeling about the Wilds. _Oh great. I'm some sort of oddity,_ I thought sourly, trying to push the thought out of my head. "When I was down there, I got separated from the expedition I was with. I wandered through the Deep Roads for a few hours, and then–"

"Whoa, hold it!" Alistair laughed, and I glanced up at him.

"Sheesh, all these interruptions!" I complained, smiling crookedly at him. "What now?"

"You were just _wandering around_ the _Deep Roads?_ You say that like you were strolling through the market!" he exclaimed.

"The market can be a pretty scary place," I replied with a wink, and he smiled helplessly at me, shaking his head. "Besides, there were hardly any darkspawn down there, according to the Dwarves I was with. So _anyway,_ Ser Interruptus," I continued, giving him a pointed look, "I met a Dwarf who was lost as well, and we traveled together until we found some Dwarves from the Legion of the Dead. My friend – Duran – joined the Legion, and they gave me a map and pointed me back to Orzammar. I met up with Duncan and the other Wardens on the way back, and Duncan recruited me. So…there you have it," I finished. Alistair was stroking his short goatee thoughtfully, as if he thought I wasn't giving him the whole story – which I wasn't – but he didn't press me for information.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	7. Chapter 7: Before the Storm

Chapter 7: Before the Storm

Disclaimer - I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The following evening, some of the other Grey Wardens in the valley returned to Duncan's tent, greeting Adeline properly now that she was one of them. Alistair could see that she was quite friendly with some of them – probably the ones she had met in Orzammar, he supposed – and she made a face as they called her 'kitten'. "Oh can you quit it with that! It's bad enough Daveth calls me _Tabby_ ," she grumbled, and the men chuckled.

"Even better," one of them laughed, and Adeline groaned as she realized what she had just gotten herself into.

"Well you _are_ rather cat-like," Alistair remarked, and a few of the others glanced over.

"Oh? Do tell us, Alistair," a man a few years older – Johan – asked with a grin, and Alistair smirked at Adeline's glare.

"She climbed up a tree in the Wilds the other day in no time at all," he replied, and the group laughed.

"Yes, ha-ha, very funny," Adeline snorted, although she was smiling slightly at him. " _I'm_ still wondering who gave you a map that dates back to the time of _Arlathan_ ," she added, shaking her head. They all laughed and smiled as the others joked and told stories, and Alistair watched as Adeline relaxed – she seemed genuinely happy to be around everyone. He knew the feeling; when he had felt lost and alone, the Grey Wardens had given him a sense of belonging. They were like a family.

The only thing that Alistair didn't quite like was the way a few of the younger Wardens were looking at Adeline. Not… _lustfully_ or anything, but he could see the interest in their eyes as they watched the Elf woman. _And why shouldn't they be? She's beautiful, funny, charming…and it's not like that sort of relationship is forbidden among Grey Wardens,_ Alistair thought, trying to temper his… _My…jealousy? Why am I jealous?_ he wondered. He tried to shake off the feeling, putting it down as protectiveness – he _had_ felt rather protective of the girl since after her Joining, although he would never admit it to her; he got the feeling that she'd be offended.

When Alistair returned his attention to the group, he suddenly found that _he_ was the topic of conversation. "What's going on?" he asked, and Willum, one of the older Grey Wardens, grinned at the young man, indicating Adeline.

"Kitten has sparred with a few of us already, but she says she's never fought someone who uses a sword and shield the way you do," he explained.

"Mother of _Andraste,_ can you _stop_ with the _kitten_ name!" Adeline exclaimed in exasperation, and Willum laughed.

"Alright, settle down…Tabby," he corrected himself, earning a loud groan of frustration from the girl.

"You want to spar? With me?" Alistair asked curiously, and Adeline shrugged.

"Well…it's like they said – I've never sparred with someone who uses a sword and shield quite the way you do. And uh…after what happened the other day, I think it'd be wise to learn," she added, tapping her left temple, where there was a small, white bandage over her wound.

"Right. Can't have me rescuing you _all_ the time," Alistair suddenly gibed – he intended to rile her up a bit; he had seen how she fought darkspawn, and he wanted to see if she would lose her temper in a fight against an opponent who would taunt her. Otherwise, he thought, she might move too fast for him; she was light on her feet, which made her easy to knock down…but only if he could _catch_ her. As he expected, she scowled, drawing her blades as he strapped on his shield.

"Ooh, so you're going to be like _that_ , are you?" she asked challengingly, her eyes flashing dangerously in the firelight.

"I'm ready to go whenever you are…kitten," Alistair risked one more jab, and he grinned as she lost it, leaping at him with her blades drawn. "Temper, temper," he teased as he caught her blades easily on his shield, smiling as she backed away, twirling her knife in her left hand and pointing with her saber in the right.

"Oh, you are _so_ going to regret that, _Chantry_ boy," she growled, although Alistair could see the hint of amusement in her eyes. The other Wardens hooted with laughter at the nickname, and even Alistair smiled slightly, knowing it wasn't given out of spite. He braced himself as she dashed forward, exchanging a flurry of blows as she hit different parts of his shield, trying to get around it with limited success.

Adeline didn't fight like a rogue normally would – he had seen as much while battling the darkspawn; instead of skirting the edge of battle to take out enemies from the back, she would actually draw attention to herself, making a distraction of herself so others could fight unhindered. _Which is very reckless with such light armor,_ Alistair thought as he held back another slash from her saber.

"Oh, where'd you learn to duck so fast?" Adeline asked with a grin, after Alistair had ducked under her blade and bashed at her arm with his shield. She danced lightly out of range, trying to put some distance between them.

"You get pretty good at dodging the Revered Mother's cane after a while," he replied glibly, and Adeline laughed. "Although you almost gave me a trim there," he added, indicating his hair.

"I'll steer clear of that, then. I _do_ so like your hair," she teased, and Alistair felt heat go through him as he heard the flirtation in her tone. She had been waiting for him to let down his guard a fraction, and went right after him – Alistair barely blocked her saber with his shield, turning slightly as she kicked at his side. He braced her foot against his hip, and she gasped in pain as she hit hard armor and solid muscle. She backed off, limping a bit, and Alistair followed quickly, not giving her time to recover.

The Elf was fast – he had to give her that – but also brash, leaving herself wide open when she attacked. He began to wonder if she was even taking him seriously at all, to be so sloppy in her fighting. _Unless…she's baiting me,_ Alistair suspected. _She's not an idiot – I'll bet she's waiting for me to slip up going for an obvious opening…_

 _Well,_ Alistair thought with some amusement, watching as Adeline continued to put distance between them, _two can play at that game._ He suddenly found that he was enjoying himself more and more as he sparred with her, planning to wear her out. He just had to concentrate on the fight, and not let himself be distracted by how bright her eyes shone in the fire's light, or how she was grinning like a cat, or how her cheeks and skin were flushed with the heat of battle…

Adeline backed off a bit, quickly skirting the edge of the fire, her leg still throbbing from where she had kicked Alistair – she knew he was well-built, but she hadn't expected him to be quite so sturdy. She also knew that Alistair had more endurance than her, and was overall more suited to direct confrontations like this – he had been formally trained as a Templar, was far more disciplined, and, if what she had heard from the rumors was true, Grey Wardens were supposed to have an exceedingly large stamina pool, able to last for hours in constant battle without tiring. She herself didn't feel very different from before her Joining, but she supposed that it took time. _That shield is giving me the most grief,_ she thought in vexation; Alistair used his shield as a weapon as much as he did his sword.

The other Grey wardens watched with interest, calling out cheers and advice, and laughing as the two bantered back and forth between attacks. The Wardens glanced up as Duncan joined them – he had been meeting with the Teyrn and the king to go over their plans once more, and to listen to the Ash Warriors' scouting reports. "Ah, Duncan, perfect timing," Malcolm greeted, his dark brown hair almost black in the fading light. "Kitten and Alistair are sparring." He indicated the two, who were still circling, and Duncan crossed his arms, watching them carefully.

"Interesting," the Grey Warden remarked. He cocked his head slightly as he observed the two youngest Wardens – he noticed how Adeline was holding her weapons, and he smiled faintly.

"Oh? Let us in on the joke, then," Willum chuckled, seeing the Warden-Commander's smile.

"Adeline isn't taking him seriously," Duncan remarked, nodding towards the two, and the other Wardens glanced at him in surprise.

"Really? She looks plenty serious to me – besides the bantering, that is," Kevan observed, watching as Adeline battered at Alistair's shield before retreating out of his sword's range.

"She's left-handed," Duncan said simply, and the others jumped.

" _What?_ " Johan exclaimed, glancing back. "But she holds her saber with her right."

"As I said, she isn't taking him seriously. Which is why she will lose," Duncan replied knowingly. He could already see that Adeline was starting to tire, her movements slower than before, and her breathing quicker; she was much lighter than Alistair, and had less stamina – taking his attacks directly was beginning to wear on her. Alistair seemed fine, overall, if a bit sore from a hit Adeline had managed to get on his shield-arm.

Adeline staggered slightly, tripping over a bit of uneven ground, and Alistair struck out with the flat of his blade, smacking her hard on the back of the hand and forcing her to drop her saber. She rolled out of the way as he swung at her with his shield, and she shook out her right hand in pain. The Elf scowled as Alistair relaxed his stance a bit, narrowing her eyes at him. "Hey, don't go easy on me just because you've stunned my hand," she complained, and Alistair returned to a readier stance.

"As you wish. But I _do_ feel a little bad…" he tried, jabbing at her pride to goad her into attacking. _Wait…_ Alistair thought, watching her carefully as a change came over her, _something's not right._ He watched as she twirled her knife, taking a few steps towards the left as she switched the blade to her right hand. _Alright, she's going to feign and go to the right so she can get at her saber,_ he thought, tensing as she ran.

Instead of running to the sides, as Alistair had guessed, she ran straight at him. He raised his shield ready to block her head-on attack, jumping with surprise as she suddenly disappeared, sliding under him and bashing the back of his knee with the pommel of her blade. Alistair staggered forward, managing to keep on his feet as he whirled around, and he blocked as Adeline held her knife aloft, backing towards her saber. _Well, there's not a lot she can do while her hand's stunned,_ he thought, although he didn't lower his guard.

Alistair's eyes narrowed in suspicion as Adeline grinned, her hair messy from the fight, and her breathing elevated from the exercise, cheeks flushed and eyes shining with excitement. "Alistair," she said, and he blinked in surprise – her voice was more even than he expected, "sorry I underestimated you." She apologized, and he laughed at her odd timing.

"Apology accepted?" he smiled, wondering what she was getting at.

"I have a confession to make," she added, and he raised an eyebrow. She kept her eyes trained on him as she slipped the toe of her boot under her saber's blade, kicking it into the air and catching it deftly with her left hand. "I'm not right-handed."

At her words she leapt at him, almost disappearing from view, reappearing a moment later at his side and slamming hard into him with her shoulder. Alistair was so caught off guard by her declaration that she actually managed to stagger him, and he fell onto his back, rolling quickly out of the way as she stabbed into the ground an inch from his shoulder.

Alistair was surprised now – he thought she had been worn out, throwing her all into attacks that he had goaded her into. _Maker's breath, she_ _ **did**_ _let me play her!_ he realized, letting out a surprised gasp as the Elf disappeared again, and he fell forward as she kneed him in the back. Instinctively – surprising both himself and Adeline with his speed – he managed to lash out with his shield faster than Adeline had expected, sweeping her legs out from under her. He heard a gasp as she fell to the ground, winded, and he recovered enough to place the tip of his blade lightly against her collarbone, kneeling over her as they both gasped for breath.

Adeline stared up at him with wide eyes, as if she couldn't believe she had lost, and the entire circle of Wardens was silent. She suddenly burst into laughter, and Alistair stood and sheathed his blade, puzzled by her mirth. "Oh, well that was a lesson in humility," she chuckled, sitting up and grinning at Alistair. "Thank you for that," she added, and Alistair smiled. He offered a hand, helping Adeline to her feet, and she dusted herself off, retrieving her blade and sheathing it. "That'll teach me not to underestimate someone," she remarked.

"It _was_ rather close, though," Alistair argued, and Adeline crossed her arms, her eyes shining with amusement.

"You're lucky I don't fight like most rogues, then," she replied, and Alistair chuckled.

"Look, there goes your newfound humility," he remarked, pointing towards the horizon, as if watching something flying away, and the girl grinned at him.

"Oh be quiet, you," she chuckled, pushing his shoulder playfully.

The other Grey Wardens laughed and applauded the two, and they glanced over, having completely forgotten their audience. They looked back at each other and laughed, shaking hands before rejoining the others by the campfire. Adeline felt a rush of pride as she looked at Duncan, seeing that he was impressed with both of them. Glancing around at all of the Wardens, she sighed contently, feeling like she finally found a place where she belonged.

oOo

Around sunset the next day, after checking by the kennels to see how the mabari hound was recovering, I sat by the Grey Warden tent with Alistair, waiting for evening. I inspected my saber, polishing it and looking over the glowing blue runes curiously, wondering what they meant…if they meant anything at all. "You know," I began, looking at Alistair, "I didn't mention it the other day, but you look awfully familiar, Alistair," I remarked. He glanced up from where he was checking over his splint-mail, inspecting some of the straps and buckles.

"Familiar? Really?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"Mm-hmm," I replied, pausing in my work to look at him more closely. "But…I feel like I would have recognized you earlier – I don't often forget a face," I added. He really _did_ look familiar, but I had no idea where I had seen him before. "You've never wandered into the Denerim Alienage, have you?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"I've been to Denerim, though; that's where the Grey Warden compound is," he replied.

"Eh, maybe I just saw you in the street once or something," I shrugged.

"Maybe. So that blade…is that Duncan's?" Alistair asked, and I glanced down at the saber, nodding.

"Yes. He told me I needed a weapon, so he gave me this," I explained. "Have any idea what it's made of? I've never seen glowing blue metal like this," I added, and he shrugged.

"No, I've never seen anything like that either. Maybe you should ask him later," Alistair suggested. He glanced up at the darkening sky, and then back towards the old temple before returning his attention to his armor. "You should probably head over to the meeting with the king soon; if you keep him waiting he might get mad – start crying – you'll feel bad, and…well, it won't be pretty," Alistair remarked, and I laughed – honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if Cailan was inclined to that sort of thing, given his dramatic nature.

"Yes, we wouldn't want that," I answered with a chuckle, sheathing my blade. "See you later, then," I added, and Alistair nodded, watching me go as I headed towards the meeting area. I ran into Duncan along the way, who said he was just coming to look for me. I still had no idea why King Cailan wanted _me_ to attend – being the most junior member of the Grey Wardens, and an _Elf_ to boot – but I wasn't about to argue with the king.

Around the table stood the king, the dark-haired man I had met yesterday – who turned out to be Teyrn Loghain – the Grand Cleric – a rather sour-looking old woman – and a bald mage with a permanent frown representing the Circle. The tension in the air between the mage and Grand Cleric was palpable, heightened by the strange stillness of the wind; a storm was brewing, dark clouds rolling in overhead and obscuring the night sky. I suddenly had a very bad feeling about all of this, but I refrained from speaking – it wasn't as if my opinion was wanted or needed at this meeting. I was simply here to observe, at the king's request.

"Loghain, my decision is final. I will stand by the Grey Wardens in this assault," Cailan said firmly, glaring at the dark-haired Teyrn, the man's face worn from years of stress and hardship. He narrowed his eyes, having expected Cailan's protest – I actually heard them shouting from Teyrn Loghain's tent the other day while they had been discussing plans – and he set his jaw as he scowled at the overeager monarch.

"You risk too much, Cailan! The darkspawn horde is too dangerous for you to be playing hero on the front lines," the Teyrn argued, his eyes stern as he looked at the reckless young king.

"If that's the case, perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian forces to join us, after all," Cailan argued, and a spark of anger lit behind the Teyrn's eyes.

"I must repeat my protest to your fool notion that we need the _Orlesians_ to defend ourselves!" he growled, and Cailan shook his head.

"It's not a 'fool notion'. Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past…and you will _remember_ who is king," the young man added, his tone turning to steel as he glared at the Teyrn.

"How fortunate Maric did not live to see his son ready to hand Ferelden over to those who enslaved us for a century!" Loghain muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose, glowering at the map on the meeting table.

"Then our current forces will have to suffice, won't they? Duncan, are your men ready for battle?" Cailan asked, glancing over towards us.

"They are, your Majesty," Duncan replied.

"And this is the recruit I met the other day? Adeline, if I recall. I understand congratulations are in order," the king added, greeting me.

"Thank you, your Majesty," I replied politely, bobbing my head. I was pleasantly surprised that he remembered my name – I hadn't really expected him to take much note of me, honestly. _Maybe he's not as air-headed as everyone thinks,_ I mused, although it was probably more likely that he remembered me because I was a Grey Warden.

"Every Grey Warden is needed now. You should be honored to join their ranks," the king said, smiling faintly.

"Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing, Cailan. We must attend to reality," the Teyrn reminded him, bringing him back to attention.

"Fine. Speak your strategy. The Grey Wardens and I draw the darkspawn into charging our lines and then…?" the king said.

"You will alert the tower to light the beacon, signaling my men to charge from cover," the Teyrn replied, and Cailan nodded.

"To flank the darkspawn, I remember. This is the Tower of Ishal in the ruins, yes? Who shall light this beacon?" Cailan asked, pointing to a spot on the map.

"I have a few men stationed there. It's not a dangerous task, but it _is_ vital," Loghain replied.

"Then we should send our best. Send Alistair and the new Grey Warden to make sure it's done," Cailan said, and my eyes widened in surprise. _What? Why?_

"I'll…do my best, your Majesty," I promised, nodding politely and trying not to grit my teeth in indignation. _Great. I'm being sent off like a sodding_ _ **servant**_ _._ Cailan must have seen the look in my eye, because he smiled faintly.

"Don't worry – you'll get your fill of battle soon enough," he assured me gently, and my anger faded slightly as I nodded.

"You rely on these Grey Wardens too much. Is that truly wise?" Loghain interjected, and Cailan made an impatient sound in his throat.

"Enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain. Grey Wardens battle the Blight, no matter where they're from," the king said, waving a hand dismissively.

"Your Majesty, you should consider the possibility of the archdemon appearing," Duncan warned, and the Teyrn looked at him coolly.

"There have been no signs of any dragons in the Wilds," he remarked.

"Isn't that what your men are here for, Duncan?" the king asked.

"I…yes, your Majesty," Duncan replied. He looked like he wanted to say something, a warning, perhaps, but didn't want to speak out of turn.

"Your Majesty, the tower and its beacon are unnecessary. The Circle of Magi–" the mage began, but the Grand Cleric glared at him, making an angry sound in her throat and crossing her arms.

"We will not trust any lives to your _spells_ , mage! Save them for the darkspawn!" she yelled, furious, and I bit my lip at her harsh tone.

"Enough! This plan will suffice. The Grey Wardens will light the beacon," Teyrn Loghain cut them off before they could start arguing, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath.

"Thank you, Loghain. I cannot wait for that glorious moment! The Grey Wardens battle beside the king of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil!" Cailan breathed, his eyes shining with excitement.

"Yes, Cailan. A glorious moment for us all," Loghain replied. I didn't like the ominous tone in his voice, and he seemed to notice my suspicious look; I quickly turned away, following Duncan as we were dismissed. The sky was dark with rolling storm clouds, and it looked like it was about to rain at any moment.

oooo

"You heard the plan. You and Alistair will go to the Tower of Ishal and ensure the beacon is lit," Duncan said, once we had found Alistair back by the bonfire.

"What? I won't be in the battle?" Alistair replied, sounding disappointed.

"This is by the king's personal request, Alistair. If the beacon is not lit, Teyrn Loghain's men won't know when to charge," Duncan explained, and the younger Grey Warden made a face.

"So he needs two Grey Wardens standing up there holding the torch. Just in case, right?" he muttered, and I crossed my arms.

"I agree with Alistair. If I wanted to be a servant, I could have stayed in Denerim!" I argued in a harsh tone, and Duncan gave me a stern look, shaking his head.

"That is _not_ your choice. If King Cailan wishes Grey Wardens to ensure the beacon is lit, then Grey Wardens _will_ be there," Duncan asserted. "And I _suggest_ you take that chip off your shoulder, Adeline. The king meant no offense when he sent you to do this," Duncan added firmly, and I looked at him quietly, my jaw tightening as I bowed my head, mortified.

"Of course. Forgive my outburst, Duncan," I murmured softly.

"We must do whatever it takes to destroy the darkspawn…exciting or no," Duncan said, his tone more gentle, and I glanced up at him, nodding.

"I get it. I get it. Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no," Alistair muttered, and I snickered at him, cheered up a bit by his words.

"Hah! I think I'd like to see that," I laughed, and he smirked, shaking his head.

"I'll have you know, I look quite fetching in a dress," he replied with a wink.

"Well, if this Grey Warden thing doesn't work out for us, we can always start up a traveling circus," I teased. Duncan rolled his eyes at our antics, shaking his head and letting out a low groan.

" _Focus_ , you two," he chided, and we grinned up at him, trying to be serious. "The tower is on the other side of the gorge from the king's camp, the way we came when we arrived," Duncan explained, and I nodded, recalling the great tower from the other day. "You'll need to cross the gorge and head through the gate and up to the tower entrance. From the top, you'll overlook the entire valley."

"When do we light the beacon?" I asked as I looked towards the sky, blinking when a raindrop fell in my eye, blinding me.

"We will signal you when the time is right. Alistair will know what to look for," Duncan replied, and Alistair and I nodded, knowing what we had to do.

"What if the archdemon appears?" I said suddenly, and Alistair made a face.

"We soil our _drawers_ , that's what," he muttered, and Duncan sighed, glancing between the two of us.

"If it does, leave it to us. I want no heroics from either of you," Duncan said, giving us both pointed looks.

"As you wish," I nodded, and Alistair followed suit.

"I must join the others. From here, you two are on your own. Remember, you are both Grey Wardens. I expect you to be worthy of that title," Duncan finished, reaching out and gripping both our arms tightly.

"Duncan…may the Maker watch over you," Alistair said solemnly, and Duncan nodded, a grim look on his face.

"May he watch over us all," he replied, heading off to join the king and the other Grey Wardens. Alistair and I ran through the camp, pausing in the roaring wind as the sky suddenly flashed with lightning, a deluge of water pouring down on us.

oOo

Duncan joined the other Grey Wardens, nodding in greeting as they gathered with the king. "Good luck, Grey Wardens," Cailan said, shaking each of their hands warmly, and the men smiled at his eagerness.

"May your blade fell a thousand of the fiends," Johan replied, gathering all of the Wardens and sending them to stand among the soldiers. He himself stood among the archers, near the trebuchets, stringing his elaborately carved bow and nocking an arrow, dipping it in a nearby bucket of tar and rolling it until the tip was coated in the black substance. Men waited down at either end of the line of archers, ready to light their torches and set the arrows aflame.

Duncan stood next to the king, his eyes narrowed as he looked into the forest, sensing the horde as it moved towards them. The battlefield was eerily silent – even the hounds had stopped barking – and the only sounds were the soft patter of rain on metal armor, and the breath of the wind as hit blew through the valley. Priests walked among the rows with thuribles, the sweet smell of incense smoke coiling over the army as the women gave silent prayers.

"The plan will work, your Majesty," Duncan remarked as his eyes scanned the tree line. He could sense that the creatures were many, but with the Teyrn's aid, Duncan knew that they would manage to push back the horde.

"Of course it will; Loghain's strategies never fail," Cailan confirmed, his jaw set, a grim smile spreading across his face as he watched forest with interest, "the Blight ends here." Despite their arguments, the king had the utmost faith in his father-in-law, and trusted that this would be an important victory for Ferelden – perhaps it would even be the battle that forced the darkspawn back into the deep roads.

A loud, bone-chilling shriek in the distance caught everyone's attention, and they watched as a faint, orange glow appeared through the trees. Thousands of torches blazed in the distance, each one carried by a darkspawn, and the earth shook with the heavy thumping of the enemy army's approach. The creatures growled and lined up just before the break in the trees, screaming threats in their eerie, twisted tongue. Duncan's eyes scanned the army for the archdemon, but he did not sense the dragon's presence, nor did he see the twisted, misshapen form of the dragon amongst the horde.

Instead, he could sense a strong presence that indicated the general of the darkspawn army, standing on a rise above the others. Its armor was plated metal, covered in war paints, and it snarled as it gazed towards Duncan, its eyes meeting the Grey Warden's, burning with unusual intelligence. It raised an arm, and from further back in the horde, a loud, bellowing war-horn echoed, signaling the darkspawn to charge.

The creatures moved as one, shrieking and snarling as they leapt from the rise and swarmed into the valley. Some of the soldiers in the king's army wavered as they stood on the front lines, but as they looked to their king, and to the Warden-Commander, they stood their ground, bracing themselves for the attack.

"Archers!" Cailan shouted above the wind. Men lit torches and ran down the lines of archers, setting their tar-coated arrows aflame. A man held his arm at the ready as the arches took aim, waving his hand in a chopping motion. Arrows flew in a symphony of plucked bowstrings, trails of smoke and fire painting arcs through the sky as the flaming shafts descended upon the darkspawn, killing dozens of the creatures before they even made it near the king's army. But for every darkspawn that fell, another seemed to take its place, and the horde drew ever nearer.

"Hounds!" Cailan called out, and another man stood before the huge pack of nearly a hundred dogs, interspersed with Ash Warriors, giving the signal to charge. The hounds howled and snarled as they dashed forward, slamming into the oncoming darkspawn like a wave, managing to push the creatures back a few steps as they tore at the beasts with strong teeth and sharp claws. As the last hound disappeared into the horde, sewing chaos as it went, Cailan held his blade aloft, his armor shining as lightning crashed down in the distance; the soldiers who saw him swore that Maric himself was at the man's shoulder that night.

"For Ferelden!" the king bellowed, and a roaring cry echoed through the soldiers as they raised their weapons above their heads, charging the darkspawn with fire in their eyes. Flaming stones from enemy trebuchets flew overhead, shattering walls and parts of the grand bridge that stood across the valley. An entire tower collapsed from the impact, shaking the bridge and startling the two youngest Wardens as they stared at the battle far below.

oOo

"Let's cross the bridge and get to the Tower of Ishal!" Alistair yelled back to me, fighting to be heard over the rumbling thunder and howling wind, tearing my attention from the battle that raged below. I gasped as we fought against the harsh storm, the breath yanked from my lips, wet hair flapping wildly about and blinding me. We ran across the slick stones of the bridge, the battle below us as shouts and screams echoed off the stone walls of the valley.

Alistair suddenly grabbed my arm, kneeling and covering us with his shield as a flaming stone from an enemy siege weapon crashed down nearby, the flames incinerating those closest to the impact with blood-curdling screams. I stared at the deep crater it had left in the stones, shaken; I could still feel the scorching heat from the flames, and Alistair's shield was smoking where fire had licked across it. _If…If Alistair hadn't reacted fast enough, we would have been a pile of ash,_ I thought, stunned.

"-line! _Adeline!_ " Alistair called through the wind, shaking my shoulder. "Maker's _breath_ woman, if you don't get moving I'm going to carry you over my shoulder!" he shouted over the storm, and I stared up at him.

"Uh! Sorry!" I gasped, snapping out of my shock. Alistair grabbed my arm as a strong gust of wind nearly threw me backwards, dragging me along as we ran down the rest of the bridge, heading for the tower. As we reached the tower grounds, I cupped a hand over my ear, hearing faint yelling ahead as the wind blew towards us, getting an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Careful! I think there's fighting up ahead!" I called through the wind, not knowing if Alistair could even hear me. I saw him tense up, as he had when sensing darkspawn, and he drew his sword, nodding back at me as I did the same.

We charged forward through the ruins at the base of the tower, roaring out battle-cries as we fought, trying to rescue as many of the tower guards as we could – they were being overwhelmed by darkspawn, who seemed to be coming from _inside_ of the tower. The wounded soldiers thanked us gratefully once we had taken out the darkspawn, sitting to rest and tend to their wounds, promising to guard the entrance.

Two of the men that were only lightly injured, a mage, who said his name was Cedric, and a tower guard named Jasper, joined us as we entered the tower. I recognized Jasper from the other day – he had been standing outside of the tower while the Teyrn's men were investigating it. "How did they get _in_ here?" I asked him frantically, and he shook his head, just as confused as we were. We walked through the main hall, and I looked around warily, keeping an eye out for darkspawn.

"I don't _know!_ I was posted here on the ground floor, once the Teyrn's men were through securing the lower levels – the darkspawn suddenly came pouring down the hall. They must have gotten in from somewhere nearby," he explained, and Alistair nodded, glancing through a doorway into the next room.

"Careful, they've got a mage too," he warned, and Cedric nodded.

"I know a spell that can cripple them – once I cast it, you'll be able to take them out quickly," Cedric explained. "I need someone to guard me, though – I'll be vulnerable while I'm casting," he added, and I gripped my saber's hilt tightly, anxious for a fight.

"I'll keep them off you," I promised, and we charged into the next room. The entire room was suddenly on fire – I had missed the trap-trigger, cursing my bad luck and flinching back in the intense heat of the blaze. Cedric tried his best to ignore the heat, casting his weakening spell on the darkspawn as they charged us.

The darkspawn mage began conjuring his own spell, spotting Cedric, and Alistair dashed across the room, bashing the mage with his shield and knocking it to the ground, stabbing the darkspawn in the throat before it could finish casting. Jasper fired his crossbow, pinning down darkspawn as they charged, and Alistair finished them off with quick sweeps of his blade.

Once we had secured the room, we continued on, clearing out each room we passed by, searching for survivors, but finding none – we found only darkspawn, and the bodies of their victims. "Ugh, by the Maker, this smell's making my head swim," I gasped, covering my nose at the stench of blood and burning flesh and hair. We passed through the kitchens, spotting a gaping hole that had been dug through the floor.

"I suppose that's how they got in," Jasper observed, squinting down into the darkness, his shoulders tense.

"Let's just give that a wide berth," I muttered warily, not liking the look of the tunnel.

We cleared out the next room, climbing the steps to the second floor; the ground here was strewn with the bodies of soldiers and tower guards, the stones wet with fresh blood. The flames cast the tower's walls in an eerie light, and horrific acts of cruelty decorated the room where the darkspawn had crucified and mutilated the bodies of the soldiers. My lip curled back in disgust, and I averted my eyes at the grisly sight.

"Maker's breath! What are these darkspawn doing ahead of the rest of the horde? There wasn't supposed to _be_ any resistance here!" Alistair gasped, staring at the carnage with wide eyes.

"Why attack the tower at all? Unless they know the plan?" I gasped, horrified by the idea. _But how could they? I thought they were mindless beasts!_ I thought frantically, clenching my jaw as I saw more darkspawn ahead, deep into the next room.

"Now _that's_ a scary thought. They _couldn't_ know about the plan! How? They're not _that_ smart, are they?" Alistair asked, panicking. He shook his head, taking a breath and trying to keep calm. "At any rate, we need to hurry! We need to get up to the top of the tower and light the signal fire in time! Teyrn Loghain will be waiting for the signal!"

"Wait. Something about this is bothering me," I said, stopping them. "What if…" I trailed off, looking between the three men for a moment before shaking my head. "Never mind. I shouldn't waste our time," I added quickly, and we continued.

"What did you want to say?" Alistair whispered – he must have seen my wary look.

"What if…the darkspawn were _led_ here?" I murmured, and his eyes widened.

"But who would do such a thing?" he replied in confusion.

"I don't…know…" I thought back to what Jasper had told me the other day. "I asked about the tower when Duncan brought me to Ostagar, and Jasper said that Teyrn Loghain's men were investigating some lower levels," I recalled, and Alistair looked at the hallway ahead, his eyes narrowing slightly as he realized what I was insinuating.

"That…do you have any grounds for those accusations?" he asked, and I bit my lip.

"…did you see any stairs to a lower floor?" I countered, and Alistair let out a quiet sigh.

"No," he admitted, "but this could be a coincidence. That, and that the Maker just has a sick sense of humor when I'm involved…" he muttered the last bit under his breath, and I raised an eyebrow. _Oh? I guess…I'm not the only one with baggage here,_ I concluded. We reached a large, open hall, where I spotted a pair of ballistae ahead. "Careful, I sense darkspawn around the corner," Alistair warned, and I nodded, crouching.

"Alistair, quick question," I asked, and he nodded. "You said Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn, right? So does that mean they can sense us, too?" He pursed his lips and nodded slightly, not liking where this was going.

"What are you planning?" he asked, and I nodded towards the hall.

"Can they sense _me?_ I can't sense any darkspawn right now, but they're obviously right there," I elaborated, and Alistair narrowed his eyes as he guessed my plan. "If they _can't_ sense me, I'll just sneak ahead and check out the ballistae," I added.

"No, Adeline, I'm not going to let you do that," he argued, and I looked up at him, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow.

"Funny, I don't think I _asked_ for your permission," I replied, and he scowled at me.

"It's not safe for you to go alone," Alistair retorted, and I rolled my eyes.

"And just charging in there – two warriors, one of which is an archer, a rogue, and a mage – _would_ be?" I countered. He looked at me sternly, shaking his head stubbornly, and I threw my hands in the air. " _Alistair,_ what is the _point_ of having a rogue if you don't let me use my talents?" I exclaimed. Alistair looked like he wanted to argue further, but sighed, relenting as he admitted that this was neither the time, nor the place.

"Just be _careful_ ; there's at least a dozen of them over there, and most are archers," he warned. "And if they charge you, I'm coming right in after you," he added, placing a hand firmly on my shoulder, and I smiled, nodding.

"My, how gallant," I teased. "I promise I'll be careful – now's not the time to be a showoff," I added, trying to reassure him, and he looked surprised.

"Wait, you were showing off in the Wilds?" he asked, and I shrugged, glancing away innocently.

" _Maybe_ ," I replied, giving him a wink. "But I _can_ be serious, you know," I added before carefully opening the door to a storage room nearby, slipping inside and taking out a pair of darkspawn that were waiting within. I found a side-door that led out to the area behind the ballistae, crouching and keeping out of sight. A large group of darkspawn were milling about across the hall, seeming to chatter at each other in their strange, hissing, growling language.

I observed the area carefully, grinning wickedly at the sight of two large barrels of oil, sitting towards the center of the darkspawn group. I picked up a flaming piece of wood, dragging it gingerly out of a bonfire. I wrapped an oily cloth around the head of the ballista bolt, lighting it up and pulling on the lever, the bolt flying off with a dull _clunk_ as the mechanism was released.

The bolt cracked the barrels, making them burst and spilling oil everywhere, shocking the darkspawn. Before they could react, the oil caught fire, and that half of the room burst into flames, a loud _whoosh_ blowing hot air and embers in my direction. I stood frozen, clinging to the ballista with an open mouth and wide eyes, my hair plastered back against my head, the few strands that had dried from the rain whipping wildly about from the hot wind. Alistair, Cedric and Jasper dashed around the corner once the flames died down, relieved to see that I was alright.

"Well," I said simply, blinking owlishly, "I think that takes care of that." I took a deep breath and slowly detaching myself from the ballista, leaving small indents in the wood where I had dug my nails through my gloves. The others let me take minute to catch my breath, Alistair checking over me carefully, making sure I was alright. "Alistair, I'm not _that_ delicate," I laughed, but he ignored me, still looking concerned.

We continued up the stairs; on the next floor, the darkspawn had overrun a large room where mabari hounds were being kept – I managed to dash through them and release the lever keeping the cages shut. The dogs rushed out as the gates opened, charging the darkspawn and helping us clear the floor of them.

As we walked down the hall, heading for the stairs, I froze, hearing a great roar up ahead and large thuds, as if something was walking around. "Uh…" I trailed off, looking at the others, who had also stopped, staring at the room ahead. "Okay, so I'm _not_ the only one who heard that, right?"

"What do you think _that_ is?" Jasper wondered, nervously clenching his fist around his sword's handle.

"Whatever it is, it's big… _very_ big," Alistair replied, continuing forward cautiously. He narrowed his eyes in concentration, his breath catching slightly and his eyes widening for a moment. I gave him a questioning look, but he didn't seem to notice, his eyes trained straight ahead, towards the door. _Did he figure out what it is?_ I wondered, trying to fight the wave of fear that rolled over me – I had managed to keep relatively calm throughout this ordeal, but when Alistair suddenly looked frightened, I began to panic. _This can't be good._

We stopped in the next room, taking a few moments to recover and tend to any minor wounds. Alistair pulled out a healing poultice, tossing it to Jasper, who thanked him before smearing a bit of the ointment on a scratch across his cheek. The skin seemed to knit itself back together before our eyes, and I tried not to look too surprised at how quickly the ointment healed his wound – I hadn't really seen healing poultices working up close before now.

"Sorry I wasn't carrying any of these the other day," Alistair apologized to me, tapping his temple to indicate my scar, "but the infirmary only got a new shipment this morning."

"Oh, no it's fine," I replied, waving a hand absently. Trying to distract myself so they wouldn't catch me staring at the poultice like a simpleton, I crept up the staircase, peeking through a crack in the door. I balked, slipping and tumbling backwards, Alistair throwing an arm out and setting me upright. "Thanks," I gasped, my heart pounding.

"So…nothing good, I take it?" Alistair asked, seeing the fear in my eyes, and I nodded, looking warily back up the stairs.

"It's a gigantic darkspawn in there, with big curling horns – it's as tall as a tree, and wide around as ten men!" I exclaimed, and their faces went pale with dread.

"An ogre," Alistair confirmed with narrowed eyes, recognizing it.

"How are the four of us going to fight something like that?" Jasper asked, and I sat down at the bottom of the stairs, shutting my eyes.

"Let me think… I didn't see any oil in there, so we can't set it on _fire_ …" I trailed off, chewing my lip in thought. Maybe I could climb up on its back and stab its face? No…it would swat me off like a fly, even if I _did_ manage to get a hit in. I needed to get him on the ground, so all of us could attack the head. An idea struck me, and I opened my eyes, looking at Cedric – he was sitting nearby, drinking a lyrium potion to restore his mana. "Cedric, are there any spells that can make the ground slippery? Like, if you covered it in ice or something?" I asked suddenly, and the mage nodded.

"I know a spell that can coat the floor in grease. You want me to make the ground slippery?" he asked, seeming to understand where my plan was going.

"That way we can knock it down!" Alistair realized, and I nodded.

" _I_ might be able to climb up to the head and stab the thing's neck, but your armor will slow you down if you try the same," I said, indicating Alistair and Jasper's metal armor. "If we knock the ogre down, we can all go after the head and throat," I elaborated, and they nodded.

"Alright, so as soon as we open the door, I'll run out of the way and start casting the spell. You'll have to keep it busy though – if I'm going to make a large enough puddle of grease, it'll take a few moments," Cedric warned us, and we nodded.

"Alistair, once we get in there, I'll need you to give me a boost – you remember how Daveth helped me into the tree, right?" I asked, and he nodded.

"You want to get to higher ground?" he asked, and then realized what 'higher ground' I probably meant. "Adeline, that thing will–" Before he could argue further, I stepped up to him and placed a finger over his lips lightly, hushing him.

"Alistair, I'll be the safest one in there – if I can get on the ogre's back, I can climb to a spot where it won't be able to reach," I explained. Alistair sighed, seeing my reasoning, and I tapped his lips lightly with the tip of my finger. "See? I'm being serious," I teased, and he smiled helplessly at my attitude, taking my hand lightly in his.

"Alright, I'll help you onto its back, but _don't_ let it get a hold of you – an ogre can crush a man's spine like a dry branch," Alistair warned. "No matter what, though, we need to make sure that beacon is lit." We nodded gravely, heading up to the door.

"I'll run in first and draw its attention away from the door," Jasper offered, loading a bolt into his crossbow, and we nodded.

"Ready?" I asked in a low voice as we stood by the door, and they all said they were. I opened the door quietly, watching the giant, blue-grey darkspawn stomp around the room, growling and grunting. As soon as his back was turned to the door, I signaled, and Jasper ran out. He let out a holler, firing off a bolt that grazed the darkspawn's cheek, and the beast bellowed, charging after the man. "Go go go!" I hissed to the others, and we dashed out after the ogre.

Alistair and I ran behind it as Jasper fired again, his bolt bouncing off one of the horns, and Alistair cupped his hands, bending over to help me. I ran towards him, jumping into his hands, and he gave a great heave, flinging me high into the air and nearly toppling over backwards as I flew over his head.

I landed hard on the ogre's shoulders, crawling over the thick neck before it could react and raising my sword over my head with both hands, stabbing down hard into a spot between its shoulder-blades. The ogre roared in agony as I ground the sword deeper, and I glanced back, spotting Alistair stabbing at the ogre's legs, aiming for the backs of its knees. I cringed as the creature roared, gripping my sword tightly and hanging on for dear life as the ogre shook his head and shoulders, trying to throw me off and simultaneously swipe at Alistair and Jasper.

I had jammed my sword deep between the shoulder-blades to try and puncture a lung, but his skin and muscles were thicker than I had anticipated; he was in a great deal of pain, by his roaring, but I doubted I had struck a killing blow, or even a _crippling_ one at that. I ducked as the ogre reached around, trying to grab at me with his clawed hands; I had made sure I was in a spot that he wouldn't be able to reach, just as I had promised.

Behind me, Cedric roared out an incantation, and I saw the floor glow blinding white for a moment before it turned slick and oily. The ogre bellowed, wobbling about as it tried to turn, going after Alistair and Jasper as they slid around by its feet, stabbing at the monster's ankles and the backs of its knees. I yanked my sword from its shoulders, sliding down to the ground – if the ogre fell on his back, I didn't want to be anywhere near him.

"Look out!" Jasper yelled, and I whirled about as the ogre turned, waving its arms about wildly. Alistair let out a grunt of pain as he was swatted to the side; he caught the brunt of the blow on his shield, but the force of it was still enough to knock him on his back, stunning him. The ogre snarled, raising a hand to crush him, and I let out a piercing whistle, trying to get his attention.

"Hey _fat-ass!_ Look _here!_ " I yelled, wanting to distract the darkspawn long enough for Alistair to get back on his feet. It turned its head and spotted me, growling and swiping at me as I tried to get out of its way. I drew the knife from my belt and flung it at the ogre's eye, and the creature roared in pain as I blinded it, blood pouring out of the sunken socket. I slipped as I backed up, skidding in the grease, and the creature managed to grab hold of me, crushing the air out of my lungs. "Sodding hell!" I gasped as I dropped my saber, feeling the ogre's grip tighten as it held me in the air. The creature glared at me with its good eye, roaring in my face, the force of its fetid breath whipping my hair wildly about and nearly making me faint from the stench.

"Adeline!" Alistair yelled as he struggled to his feet, stabbing the darkspawn in the back of the knee as he got behind it. The creature staggered, falling to one knee but keeping a tight grip on me. Jasper dropped his crossbow and grabbed a mace from the body of a dead soldier, running forward and smashing the heavy weapon against the ogre's kneecap, shattering the bone with the force of the blow. The darkspawn howled in pain and swatted the two away with its free hand, but refused to drop me.

"Let _go_ of me you _bastard!_ " I cried, struggling to squirm loose. I tried biting the ogre's finger, but my teeth didn't even leave a mark in the thick skin. Cedric fired colored bolts of energy at the darkspawn's face and wrist, trying to loosen its grip, but I squealed in agony as the ogre clenched his fist instead. "Aaaugh!" I wailed, everything going black and red with pain. The word tumbled around me as I felt the ogre pull his arm back.

"No!" someone shouted, and I was suddenly flying through the air. I felt a sharp pain as I slammed into the wall, and I slid down, landing hard behind a group of barrels, gasping for breath. Alistair roared as the ogre slipped backwards, leaping into the air with his blade raised above his head, landing with his knees on the creature's throat. As it reached up to grab him, Alistair stabbed down hard, and the ogre let out a final roar before its head rolled back, body going limp.

"Jasper, light the beacon!" Alistair yelled, running towards me with Cedric on his heels. The two skidded to a halt next to me, finding me lying among the barrels, wheezing faintly as I struggled to breathe. "Adeline…" Alistair murmured, kneeling down next to me.

"I…I don't know if she'll make it," Cedric whispered, trying a healing spell on me. "I'm not skilled enough to treat this kind of injury. We'd need a specialist in the creation school of magic to treat this sort of…" he trailed off as Alistair looked at him desperately.

"You need to try _something!_ " he argued, and I looked up at the two, my eyes bleary with pain. Alistair gingerly moved me around, gathering me up in his arms as Cedric tried another spell. I felt the wounds on my skin healing, but my lower half went cold, and my insides throbbed and burned.

"I think some of her organs have been ruptured. She's bleeding internally," I could hear Cedric say, his voice faint as my hearing drifted in and out.

"…it's so dark…and it…it hurts…" I breathed as I tried to look up at them. "I…can't feel my legs. Everything's…c-cold," I whispered. "…Mamae…?" I could see something blurrily beyond Alistair and Cedric, my head hitting against Alistair's shoulder as I went limp, feeling my eyes close as sound and feeling faded off into the distance.

"Adeline? _No!_ Don't close your eyes!" Alistair's voice echoed from far away. Screeches and wails suddenly blasted through the room, and I heard a loud yell of pain and felt a thump as something threw Alistair and me across the floor. A distant roaring made the world around me shake, and I felt everything vibrating and pulsing as my consciousness faded away.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	8. Chapter 8: The Long Road Ahead

Chapter 8: The Long Road Ahead

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[Mid-Bloomingtide]

 _I felt as if I were tumbling through the air, dizzy and light. I rolled and twisted, landing gently in a small, dimly lit room. The old witch and Morrigan were hovering over a figure piled with blankets, lying unnaturally still in a low, wooden bed, silent, except when asking for a clean rag, or an herb. Alistair was sitting in the corner, staring blankly ahead, his eyes glazed over and bloodshot._

 _"Lad, you do nothing for her by sitting there moping. Go outside, and gather these herbs with Morrigan," the old woman barked, and Alistair started. The voices sounded far away, as if I were hearing them through deep water, despite the fact that I was standing not two feet from them._

 _As the two left to collect herbs, I glanced at the figure in the bed, jolting violently – my body lay there, tiny and pale, barely breathing. The old woman turned, looking right at me; her eyes flashed yellow, and her pupils were thin slits, like a cat's. "I see you've finally joined us," she remarked absently, looking back at my body and continuing her work._

 _I took a shaky step toward my body, but as I moved, I felt a force sweeping me backwards. It was tugging at me as I struggled to reach my body, and I pushed hard against an invisible wall of wind. "No! I need to go back!" I yelled, fighting as everything around me faded to black._

 _I was drifting again, now through darkness, now through light, floating, feeling nothing – no pain, no warmth or cold…there was simply no sensation at all._

oOo

Alistair leaned against a tree, his arms crossed as he watched Morrigan picking herbs in the damp marshland. "Must you stare at me so?" Morrigan growled, glaring at Alistair, and the young Templar narrowed his eyes.

"I want to make sure you don't try anything," he muttered darkly, and she rolled her eyes at the suspicious man.

"If I had wanted to 'try something' as you say, I would have done so long ago. And what would the point be in Mother's rescue if we were planning to harm you?" she challenged, and Alistair looked away, his jaw tight.

"The _Chasind_ say–"

"Superstitious hogwash," Morrigan cut him off with a stern look. They were silent for a while as Morrigan placed some herbs in her basket, righting herself and indicating that they should head back. They walked through the marshland, Alistair on high alert for darkspawn, and Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Mother's magic will protect us from them," she explained, seeing the Grey Warden's tense look, and he shrugged, not comforted by the thought of the strange old witch's magic around them, even for protection.

"Do you…think she'll make it?" Alistair said when they reached the tall, lopsided house, and Morrigan paused, looking back at him quietly, her hand on the doorknob.

"Perhaps she will, and perhaps she will not. That is up to Adeline – she appears to be strong, but you told us that she was nearly crushed to death. Only time will tell us if she lives or dies," Morrigan replied, and Alistair snorted.

"That's comforting," he muttered wryly, and the woman rolled her eyes.

"If you are hoping for the worst, then she will surely die," Morrigan retorted sharply, and Alistair flinched, his eyes pained as he thought of the possibility. They entered the house in silence, and he sat in the corner by the fire, clasping his hands together and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at the tiny figure in the bed. Her chest was rising and falling in short, shallow breaths, and her face was flushed in fever. Her lips quivered, as if she were saying something, and Morrigan's mother dabbed lightly at her brow with a wet cloth.

– The waiting was the worst part –

Alistair was restless the next evening; his heart ached whenever he thought about what happened, and his stomach was clenching up and rolling around violently – he ate very little, and when he did, he hadn't been able to keep it down. His injuries had been severe – he had been shot full of darkspawn arrows – but not as devastating as Adeline's; as Morrigan had described, her mother had had to nearly reassemble the girl's organs and lower spine after they had been crushed. _And she was hurt so badly when she tried to protect_ _ **me**_ _,_ he thought guiltily, shutting his eyes in pain at the memory. Alistair had never had someone risk their life to save him like that, and while a tiny part of him was almost happy that she had – that she had thought him worthy of saving – most of him wanted to make sure that nothing like this ever happened to her again.

He sat next to Adeline as Morrigan and her Mother retired; the girl's condition was stable, and he watched with sad eyes as she lay there, seeming as if she were only asleep. She looked painfully fragile, and when he had picked her up in the tower, she had been surprisingly light; Alistair realized that she was underweight, and cursed himself for not recognizing that she was malnourished from traveling, and perhaps from even before – he supposed that the rumors of the squalid conditions in the Alienages were true. He gently took one of her hands in his, running his fingers over the delicate wrist and palm, feeling her fingers twitch slightly at his touch. _I couldn't protect her,_ he thought, his eyes red and pained, _I couldn't protect any of them._

Alistair glanced to the bedside, looking at Adeline's blade; Morrigan's Mother had managed to recover it, along with his own sword and shield, but not their armor. Or at least _his_ armor; Adeline's armor consisted of a padded leather vest, and while it had arrow holes in it, it wasn't unwearable. His own armor – the splint-mail cuirass and light mail hauberk – had been wrenched off by the darkspawn before the old witch had saved them, and while he still had his metal gauntlets and greaves, he felt horribly exposed whenever he was sent to gather materials with Morrigan. _I'll need to get a new set of armor as soon as possible,_ he thought, glancing at Adeline, _and get her a decent set of leather armor as well – that vest didn't help much._

He gently put the girl's hand down, picking up her saber and turning it over in the faint candlelight, drawing it part-way out of the sheath and running a finger over the blue runes. They pulsated slightly at his touch, and he could sense the faintest hint of lyrium vibrating through the metal as it seemed to hum at his touch. He looked at the weapon curiously, wondering where Duncan had found it; the Grey Warden had never actually used the saber – or at least, not that Alistair had seen. At the thought of the old man, Alistair's heart tightened, and he shut his eyes, sheathing the blade and putting it down, gripping his head in his hands as a wave of grief rolled over him.

"Please…" he whispered pleadingly, taking Adeline's hand gently in his and pressing it against his lips as he leaned against the bed, his eyes shut tight. "Please, don't leave me alone…"

oooo

On the third day after Morrigan's mother had rescued them, when it was still early evening, Alistair stood outside of the crooked house, looking out over the marshland in silence. The old witch stood nearby, her eyes shut and her arms raised; she was casting a very powerful spell, Alistair sensed, perhaps the one that was keeping the darkspawn from finding them.

It was very strange, he thought; he could sense traces of magic around her – that was how he had first confirmed that she was a mage – but he could only sense the full force of her power when she was actively casting spells. Otherwise, any hint of magic around her was extremely faint – almost nonexistent. When she _was_ casting spells, however, her power was truly terrifying; she was far stronger than any mage Alistair had ever sensed – even stronger than the First Enchanter he had met – and he began to wonder if Daveth _had_ been right; if this crazy old bat really _was_ the Witch of the Wilds.

He let out a quiet breath, closing his eyes and crossing his arms, and he heard the old woman snort slightly as she finished, shaking her head at his moodiness. "You've mourned for long enough, boy. There are things that need to be done, whether the girl wakes or not," the old woman said in her low voice, and Alistair opened his eyes, letting out a long sigh and nodding.

"I know that. I just…I feel like I've failed them all. I couldn't do anything to save the other Grey Wardens, or the king…and I couldn't protect her," he murmured, nodding back towards the lopsided shack sitting among the cattails and marsh grass. The witch crossed her arms, a sternness entering her voice as she looked at the distraught man.

"Then _learn_ from this. Use this tragedy so that you may _become_ strong enough to protect those you wish to protect," the old woman said. They were silent as Alistair stared off into the sunset, mulling her words over. A quiet sound drew the witch's attention back towards the house, and she saw Adeline standing near the door, clearing her throat to let them know she was there. "See? Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, young man," the woman remarked, nodding towards the girl, and Alistair turned at the sound, his eyes misting over with relief as he saw her.

oOo

 _I was light as air… I felt nothing…_

A dull ache in my lower back… A soreness in my shoulders…

Gnawing hunger… Intense heat…

I let out a gasp, eyes flashing open as I stared at a wooden ceiling above my head, crying out in pain from the sudden movement; my muscles contracted, and I gritted my teeth, tears springing to my eyes. I lay frozen, my body stiff as I tried to calm myself, taking slow, deep breaths. My muscles relaxed, and I looked around the unfamiliar room. For a moment, staring at the ceiling, I had the thought that I was back home, and that everything that had happened over the past three and a half months had all been a strange dream. I glanced over to my right, eyes widening in surprise; Morrigan was sitting next to me, watching intently with her cat-like eyes.

"Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased," she observed in a neutral tone, reaching out and placing a cool hand on my brow, checking my temperature.

"Morrigan…? Wait, where am I?" I asked, my voice cracking. My throat was parched, and the dark-haired woman helped me slowly into a sitting position, handing me a water-skin.

"Back in the Wilds, of course. I have just changed your bandages; you are welcome, by the way," Morrigan said, and I thanked her, drinking slowly from the water-skin and looking around the room. It was small, and the walls were hung with strange objects and strings of dried plants. A fire crackled in the hearth, and a large metal pot sat, water boiling and giving off steam. "How does your memory fare? Do you remember Mother's rescue?" Morrigan asked, and I stared at the bed sheets, touching my bandaged torso lightly.

"I remember the ogre threw me and broke my back…and then vaguely…I remember being overwhelmed by darkspawn…" I murmured, and Morrigan nodded, standing and crossing her arms.

"Mother managed to save you and your friend, though 'twas a close call. What is important is that you both live," she replied, walking over to the pot of water and dropping in some ingredients. "The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field – the darkspawn won your battle. Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend…he is not taking it well," she added, stirring the contents of the pot.

"My…friend? Alistair's alive?" I asked, my eyes brightening slightly, and she nodded.

"The suspicious, dim-witted one who was with you before, yes," she retorted. "He is outside by the pond. Mother asked to see you when you awoke."

"Were my injuries severe?" I asked; I had already been on the verge of death – I couldn't imagine what the other darkspawn had done.

"You were asleep for three days, and your fever broke only last night, but I expect you shall be fine. The darkspawn did nothing Mother could not heal," Morrigan replied, and I sighed.

"What about Alistair? Is he all right?" I prodded, and she let out a slightly impatient sigh at my questions.

"He _is_ …as you are. I suppose it would be unkind to say he is being childish," she replied, and I bit back a nasty retort at her harsh words.

"…why does your mother want to see me?" I asked, and Morrigan shrugged, absently stirring the stew.

"I do not know. She rarely tells me her plans," she replied simply.

"Thank you for helping me, Morrigan," I said, slowly standing and nodding my head gratefully.

"I…you are welcome, though Mother did most of the work. I am no healer," she replied awkwardly, not used to being thanked, I supposed. She gave me some clothes; a bell-sleeved brown dress that went down to my knees with a dark green plaid skirt; thankfully, her mother had managed to save Duncan's sword, and my mother's boots were undamaged.

"Would you mind if I asked some questions?" I asked quietly as I pulled my leather vest – now full of arrow-holes – over my dress, and she shook her head, seeing my earnest look.

"I do not mind. Take your time," she replied.

"Are we safe here? Where are the darkspawn?" I asked, and Morrigan nodded towards the door, indicating the outside.

"We are safe, for the moment. Mother's magic keeps the darkspawn away. Once you leave, 'tis uncertain what will happen. The horde has moved on, so you might avoid it, if you are cautious," she explained, and I nodded, looking down at my hands. I began nervously fingering the hilt of my saber, the silver vines that decorated the woven basket hilt gleaming in the firelight.

"Are there any survivors besides us?" I prodded.

"Only stragglers that are long gone. You would not want to see what is happening in that valley now," Morrigan said ominously, and I bit my lip.

"Why? What's happening?" I asked, and she paused, looking at me with wary eyes.

"Are you sure you want me to describe it?" she said, and I nodded.

"Yes…please," I replied, my tone level as I tried to keep my emotions in check.

"I had a good view of the battlefield; 'Tis a grisly scene. There are bodies everywhere, and darkspawn swarm them…feeding, I think," she described, and I felt the blood drain from my face in horror. "They also look for survivors and drag them back down beneath the ground. I cannot say why," she added, and I felt a shiver go through me.

"Maker's mercy…" I murmured, shutting my eyes for a moment. I took a deep breath, trying to keep calm as I took in the information. "How did your mother manage to rescue us, exactly?" I asked as Morrigan returned to minding the food.

"She turned into a giant bird and plucked the two of you from atop the tower, one in each talon," she replied, and I couldn't tell if she was being serious or not. "If you do not believe that tale, then I suggest you ask Mother yourself. She _may_ even tell you," she added, and I nodded slowly.

"So…why _did_ your mother save us?" I asked, and Morrigan shrugged.

"I wonder at that myself, but she tells me nothing. Perhaps you were the only ones she could reach?" she wondered aloud, stirring the thick, savory smelling stew. " _I_ would have rescued your king. A king would be worth a much higher ransom than you," she added, and I let out a soft snort, crossing my arms. _Much, much higher,_ I thought wryly.

"How practical of you," I replied. "I think I've asked enough," I added with a soft sigh, looking towards the door.

"I agree. 'Tis time you speak with Mother then be on your way," Morrigan replied. I thanked her once more, walking slowly to the door and stepping outside, blinking in the fading sunlight. I ran a hand through my hair, combing out the messy red strands until they settled down.

The evening air was cool, the marshland painted orange and gold with the sunset, and I looked out over the glimmering water, spotting Alistair and Morrigan's mother nearby. I cleared my throat softly, and the old witch glanced up, nodding at Alistair to get his attention. "See? Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, young man," she said, and he turned to look at me, his eyes widening and misting over with relief.

"You…you're alive! I thought you were dead for sure," he whispered in a rasping voice, walking over slowly, his hands shaking.

"I'm just as surprised as you are, Alistair," I smiled gently at him. He let out a soft, shaky breath, reaching out his hands and placing them on my cheeks, as if he wasn't sure whether I was real or not. I placed my hands over his, gripping his fingers reassuringly and giving him an encouraging smile. "Don't worry, I'm really here," I whispered, understanding. He let out a sigh of relief, and before I realized it, he pulled me into a tight hug. I looked up at him with big eyes, worry going through me as I felt him trembling slightly.

"Duncan's dead. The Grey Wardens, even the king… They're all dead…" he murmured into my hair, shutting his eyes miserably. I reached up and placed my hand lightly on his cheek, gently cupping his face, and he opened his eyes, looking at me for a long time in silence. He calmed down a bit, taking a small step away from me and letting his arms drop to his sides. He still kept a grip on one of my hands, though, as if he were afraid I'd disappear if he let go. "This doesn't seem real. If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead on top of that tower," he sighed.

The old witch crossed her arms, giving him a pointed look. "Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad," she said firmly, and Alistair glanced back at her apologetically.

"I didn't mean…but what do we call you? You never told us your name," he replied, and she shrugged.

"Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do," she replied simply, and Alistair's eyes widened.

" _The_ Flemeth, from the legends? Daveth was right – you're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?" Alistair whispered in disbelief, and I looked between the two. I had heard the tale of Flemeth from Daveth, but…well, it had always just been a tale to me.

"And what does _that_ mean? I _know_ a bit of magic, and it has served you both well, has it not?" Flemeth retorted, shaking her head.

"Not to sound… _ungrateful_ , but why _did_ you save us?" I asked curiously, and Flemeth looked over at me, seeming almost amused by the question.

"Well, we cannot have _all_ the Grey Wardens dying at once, can we? _Someone_ has to deal with these darkspawn," she replied, and I nodded, supposing this was true. "It has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did that change when I wasn't looking?" she asked almost mockingly, and Alistair bristled.

"We _were_ fighting the darkspawn! The king had nearly defeated them! Why would Loghain do this?" he cried, furious.

"Now _that_ is a good question. Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature," Flemeth replied, shaking her head slightly. "Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmaneuver. Perhaps he does not see that the evil _behind_ it is the true threat," she added, and Alistair nodded.

"The archdemon," he said.

"What could the Teyrn hope to gain by betraying the king?" I asked, looking up at Alistair.

"The throne? He's the queen's father. Still, I can't see how he'll get away with murder," he replied.

"You speak as if he would be the first king to gain his throne that way. Grow up, boy!" Flemeth scoffed.

"If Arl Eamon knew what he did, he would never stand for it! The Landsmeet would never stand for it! There would be civil war!" Alistair argued, and I cocked my head.

"Arl Eamon? From Redcliffe?" I asked, and he nodded.

"I suppose…Arl Eamon wasn't at Ostagar; he still has all his men. And he was Cailan's uncle," he explained. "I know him. He's a good man, respected in the Landsmeet. Of course! We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!" he said, and I nodded.

"That's a start, at least," I replied.

"Such determination. How intriguing," Flemeth remarked.

"I still don't know if Arl Eamon's help would be enough. He can't defeat the darkspawn horde by himself!" Alistair sighed, and I bit my lip, suddenly remembering the treaties.

"What about those treaties Flemeth gave us? Do you still have them?" I asked, and Alistair nodded.

"See? There is a smart lass," the old witch said, seeming pleased that we had finally remembered.

"Of course! The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand aid from Dwarves, Elves, mages, and other places! They're obligated to help us during a Blight!" he exclaimed.

"I may be old, but Dwarves, Elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else…this sounds like an army to me," Flemeth observed.

"So can we do this? Go to Redcliffe and these other places and…build an army?" Alistair asked nervously, and I smiled encouragingly up at him.

"Why not? Isn't that what Grey Wardens do?" I asked, and he smiled at my words.

"So you are set, then? Ready to be Grey Wardens?" Flemeth asked, and I turned to face her, bowing my head respectfully.

"Yes. Thank you for everything, Flemeth," I replied, and the old woman gave me a small smile, waving a hand dismissively.

"No, no, thank _you_. You are the Grey Wardens here, not I," she said, glancing behind us, towards her house as Morrigan approached. "Now…before you go, there is yet one more thing I can offer you," she trailed off, watching her daughter walk over.

"The stew is bubbling, Mother dear. Shall we have two guests for the eve, or none?" Morrigan asked, crossing her arms, and Flemeth nodded towards us.

"The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl, and you will be joining them," the old woman replied, and Alistair and I shot her a bewildered look.

"Such a shame… _what?_ " Morrigan gaped in astonishment, realizing what her mother had said.

"You heard me, girl. The last time I looked, you had ears!" the old woman cackled, and Morrigan opened and closed her mouth quickly, suddenly at a loss for words.

"I…no doubt her abilities will be useful, but if she doesn't _want_ to…" I began, and Flemeth snorted, crossing her arms.

"Have _I_ no say in this?" Morrigan added, finding her voice again, and Flemeth smiled crookedly at her daughter.

"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years; here is your chance," she retorted, and Morrigan bit her lip. "As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives," she directed her words at us, and Alistair looked at Morrigan uncertainly.

"Not to…look a gift horse in the mouth, but won't this _add_ to our problems? Out of the Wilds, she's an apostate," Alistair argued, and Flemeth looked at him with cold, level eyes, a menacing growl entering her voice.

"If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, young man, perhaps I should have left you on that tower," Flemeth replied, her tone low and deadly.

"Point taken," Alistair said, glancing away awkwardly.

"Mother…this is not how I _wanted_ this. I am not even _ready_ –" Morrigan began to argue, her voice rising in panic, but her mother cut her off with a wave of her hand.

"You _must_ be ready. Alone, these two must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn. They need you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail, and all will perish under the Blight. Even I," Flemeth said the last part softly, and Morrigan lowered her head, nodding slowly.

"I…understand," she sighed, and the old woman nodded, looking back at us.

"And _you_ , Wardens? Do _you_ understand? I give you that which I value above all in this world. I do this because you _must_ succeed," Flemeth said, and I nodded, looking at her with determination in my eyes.

"She won't come to harm with us," I promised, and Flemeth gave a short nod, watching her daughter return to the house, the young woman's back and shoulders stiff.

"Allow me to get my things, if you please," Morrigan replied coolly, closing the door behind her.

"…Alistair," I glanced up at him, a small smile on my face, "we can do this. Don't worry," I encouraged, and he sighed, giving a small nod as his grip on my hand tightened.

Morrigan returned shortly, wearing a dark, wolf-fur cloak, a pair of traveling packs over her shoulder with her twisted magic staff strapped to one – I recognized the other as mine, wondering when she had picked it up. "I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens. I suggest a village north of the Wilds as our first destination. 'Tis not far, and you will find much you need there," she said simply, shooting a bitter glare at her mother, who was watching us with a faint look of amusement in her eyes. "Or, if you _prefer_ , I shall simply be your silent guide. The choice is yours," she added, and I shrugged.

"I prefer you speak your mind," I replied, and Flemeth laughed behind us.

"Oh, you will regret saying that," the old woman chuckled, and Morrigan's jaw tightened as she clenched her teeth in frustration.

"Dear, _sweet_ mother, you are so _kind_ to cast me out like this. How fondly I shall remember this moment," Morrigan ground out as she gritted her teeth.

"Well, I always said if you want something done, do it yourself. Or hear about it for a decade or two afterwards," Flemeth said, and Alistair looked at Morrigan's frustrated face, glancing back at me doubtfully.

"I just…do you _really_ want to take her along because her _mother_ says so?" he asked with uncertainty, and I shrugged.

"Why not? She's a mage; I'm sure she'll be of great help to us," I replied, and he sighed, relenting.

"I guess you're right. The Grey Wardens have always taken allies where they could find them," Alistair admitted, and Morrigan narrowed her eyes scornfully at him.

"I am so _pleased_ to have your approval," she grumbled sarcastically.

"So Morrigan, how are we going to get past the darkspawn?" I asked, and Morrigan crossed her arms.

"The real question is how we are going to get your _friend_ past the darkspawn, is it not?" she replied, nodding to Alistair, and I raised an eyebrow.

"That's true. The darkspawn won't sense you, since you haven't been a Warden for very long, but they'll definitely sense _me_ ," he explained, and I pursed my lips.

"I couldn't sense any darkspawn, back in the tower. It takes time, right?" I recalled, and he nodded.

"You won't sense them right away, no. We should be able to sneak past smaller groups, but larger ones, or particularly _intelligent_ darkspawn, will always detect us," Alistair added, and I made a face.

"Oh, how lovely – so stealth is no longer an option," I snorted sourly.

"Don't worry, there will be plenty of _other_ things we'll have to sneak around in the Wilds, I'm sure," Alistair reassured me, smirking at the look of chagrin on my face.

"Mother has given me something else for the darkspawn to 'smell' instead as we pass by. 'Tis important we head _out_ of the Wilds, however, not farther in; that is where they are most concentrated – such a large group will sense a Grey Warden nearby, no matter the precautions we take," Morrigan warned, and we nodded.

"So what skills _do_ you have, exactly?" I asked curiously, and Morrigan shrugged.

"I know a few spells, though I am nowhere near as powerful as Mother. I have also studied history. And your Grey Warden treaties," she replied simply.

"Can you cook?" Alistair asked suddenly, and Morrigan made a face at him.

"I…can cook, yes," she replied, her eyes narrowed.

"Never mind him. You don't have to cook," I said, and Alistair shrugged.

"You missed your chance. Now it's charred rabbit from here on out," he sighed, and I rolled my eyes at him, smiling.

" _I_ can cook, Alistair," I replied. "…sort of," I amended softly.

"As long as _you_ don't make the stew," Alistair muttered, and I looked at him oddly, not sure what he was talking about.

"Have…have you ever been outside the Wilds?" I asked, returning my attention to Morrigan, and she nodded.

"From time to time. I have been to the village I mentioned, watched its people, and pondered what curious beings they are," she replied. "On occasion, I purchased goods from the village merchants. There I spoke with men, a little. There they stared and knew me as an outsider. Mother wishes for me to expand the horizon of my experience beyond the Wilds. Even _she_ was not born here," she explained, and I crossed my arms, frowning at her displeased expression.

"Is that what you want?" I tried, and she gave a small shrug.

"What I _want_ is to see mountains. I wish to witness the ocean and step into its waters. I want to _experience_ a city rather than see it in my mind," she breathed, her eyes glowing as she thought of these things. "So, yes, this is what I want. Actually leaving is…harder than I thought, however. Perhaps Mother is right – it must simply be done quickly," Morrigan said with finality.

"Well, then, I suppose we should be off," I suggested, and Morrigan hitched her pack higher on her shoulders, looking over at Flemeth coolly.

"Farewell, Mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire; I would hate to return to a burned-down hut," she said, and Flemeth crossed her arms.

"Bah. 'Tis far more likely you will return to see this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight," the old woman barked, and Morrigan flinched, looking over at her mother apologetically.

"I…all I meant was…" she trailed off, and Flemeth let out a small sigh.

"Yes, I know. Do try to have fun, dear," the old woman said, bidding us farewell.

oooo

Morrigan told us that the trip to the village, Lothering, would take us three days – one whole day was to be spent navigating the Wilds, avoiding highly concentrated groups of darkspawn as we made our way out to the Imperial Highway. We walked quickly but cautiously through the Wilds, trying to get as far as we could before the sun set; I glanced over at Morrigan, a question on my tongue as I watched the dark-haired woman. "So you grew up in the Wilds?" I asked suddenly, and she glanced over, frowning at my curious look.

"Why do you ask me such questions? I do not probe _you_ for pointless information, do I?" she replied a bit sharply, and I smiled faintly – it was actually kind of funny when she was annoyed, but not outright angry.

"You _could_ , if you wanted to," I said, and she sighed.

"Oh, what luck," she replied sarcastically, absently twirling a twig through her fingers as we walked. "What is it you asked? If I 'grew up' in the Wilds? A curious question; where _else_ would you picture me?" she asked, and I shrugged. "For many years it was simply Flemeth and I. The Wilds and its creatures were more real to me than Flemeth's tales of the world of man. In time, I grew curious. I left the Wilds to explore what lay beyond, though never for long. Brief forays into a civilized wilderness," Morrigan continued, inspecting a leaf of elfroot as we passed by the tall plant.

"And you remained unnoticed?" I asked; I supposed it wasn't _too_ hard to imagine – she seemed to be fairly clever, and I doubted Flemeth would let her walk into unnecessary danger.

"For the most part. Flemeth taught me well," she replied. "For all that I _had_ been taught, however, the truth of the civilized lands proved to be…overwhelming," she admitted, her eyes reflecting the sunset. "I was unfamiliar with so much. So confident and bold was I, yet there was much that Flemeth could never have prepared me for."

"Very daring. That sounds like you," I remarked, and I saw her smile faintly at me, giving a soft laugh. Alistair seemed surprised by the light sound, but made no comment, walking a little ways behind us.

"Equal parts daring and foolhardy, perhaps," she replied.

"So in all these years, no one ever thought that _maybe_ you were a witch?" Alistair asked incredulously, and Morrigan gave a soft, derisive snort.

"They did, but they found nothing. Only once was I openly accused of being a Witch of the Wilds, and that by a Chasind who happened to be traveling with a merchant caravan," she answered. "He pointed and gasped and began shouting in his strange language, and most assumed he was casting some curse upon me. I acted the terrified girl, and naturally he was arrested," she recalled.

"Oh, and we're supposed to be surprised that you're a good liar?" I heard Alistair mutter behind us, but Morrigan ignored him, rolling her eyes at his suspicious tone.

"That was quick thinking," I remarked, and she shrugged, glancing up at the sky as it turned a dark blue, the sun setting behind the dense pine woods to our left.

"Men are always willing to believe two things about a woman; one, that she is weak, and two, that she finds him attractive," Morrigan listed. "I played the weakling and batted my eyelashes at the captain of the guard. Child's play," she smirked. "The point being that I was able to move through human lands fairly easily. Whatever humans think a Witch of the Wild looks like, 'tis not I," she continued. "Not that I did not have trouble; there are things about human society which have always puzzled me. Such as the touching – why all the _touching_ for a simple greeting?" she exclaimed, clearly troubled by this.

"…touching? Like a handshake?" I tried, and Morrigan nodded.

"To begin with, yes. What is the point of touching my hand? I find it an offensive intrusion," she replied firmly, and I tried not to snicker. "There were many nuances that Flemeth could never tell me of," she continued, and I listened intently. "When to look into another's eyes, how to eat at a table, how to bargain without offending…none of these things I knew," she listed. "I still do not understand it all, truth be told. But, then, I gave up long ago any hope of doing so. When I returned to the Wilds last, I swore to Flemeth that I had no intention of leaving again," she finished, and I gave her a guilty smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"Well, I'm glad it worked out this way, at least," I tried, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Yes? Let's ignore the entire darkspawn threat and the presence of a simpleton as your only other Grey Warden ally, then," she replied, getting an angry ' _Hey!_ ' from Alistair as he heard the insult. "Not that I lack appreciation for the intent of your comment. Thank you," she added, and I smiled.

We settled into an awkward silence as we continued through the trees, the colors of the scenery turning orange with the light of sunset. Alistair was very quiet, and his eyes had a blank, deadened look to them. Morrigan seemed rather indifferent to anything going on as she guided us through the woods and marshlands – she didn't even look back to make sure we were following.

"So Morrigan," I said, trying to break the silence. The woman gave no indication that she had heard me, but I continued anyway. "How did you know this was my pack?" she glanced back as I indicated the bag on my back. "And how did you _get_ to it? I thought the camp where I left it would have been overwhelmed by darkspawn."

She was quiet for a while – I wasn't sure if she would grace me with an answer at all – and she let out a soft breath. "If you are curious, I retrieved it because it was the least damaged bag in the Grey Warden tent," she replied. I supposed that she or Flemeth might have gone back to Ostagar to salvage anything useful from the battleground while I was comatose. "If you search inside, you will see that not everything there is your own – I filled it with undamaged supplies I found among Grey Wardens' things," she added, and I raised an eyebrow.

"…but why risk going back to the battlefield for a bag of supplies?" I wondered, and she scoffed. She stopped talking, then, and I glanced at Alistair; he seemed to come out of his silence for a few moments as he noticed my gaze.

"Because her mother told her to," he replied, and Morrigan threw him a nasty glare. "What? It's _true_ ," he replied as he scowled right back. I picked up my pace slightly and positioned myself between the two, hoping that it was hint enough that I didn't want them bickering over this.

We set up camp soon after. Morrigan started a small fire before raising her staff into the air, her form shimmering as she cast a spell; a moment later, a large, black-furred she-wolf was in her place. Alistair and I stared at her in surprise before she loped off into the woods, disappearing into the night without a trace. "Well that was…" I trailed off as I sat down, not entirely sure what it was.

"… _interesting_ ," Alistair answered for me, and I nodded.

"Interesting sounds about right," I agreed. "Now, let's see what Morrigan packed," I added, taking my bag and opening it, sorting out the supplies in neat piles by the fireside as I knelt in the grass. Most of the supplies that I had bought in Orzammar and from Bodahn and Sandal were still there; the journal, pencils and sketchbook I had bought, along with a few bits and baubles I had picked up as curiosities – a bag of rune-stones that were used in fortune-telling, and another bag of assorted elemental crystals, used in alchemy, a hair brush and so on.

None of my clothes were in the bag, unfortunately – I wrote down a note in my journal that we would need to buy more clothes if we could, once we got to Lothering. I jotted down everything that I had found as I took inventory, thanking the Maker that I still had the money I had taken from the Kendells' estate. A few of the objects in the bag were new, as Morrigan had said earlier; I found assorted coins at the bottom of my bag, some traveling rations, a few journals – belonging to the other Grey Wardens, I assumed – and, oddly enough, a gold worry token.

I looked at the token in confusion, wondering how it had ended up with the other supplies. _Don't tell me Morrigan saw something gold and shiny and just tossed it in._ I was almost amused by the thought, rolling the token over my knuckles and flicking it into the air with my thumb, catching it and examining the round object by the light of the fire.

"…that's mine," Alistair remarked, and I glanced over, jumping slightly – he had been watching me the whole time, and I hadn't even noticed. _Some sentry_ _ **you'd**_ _be,_ I thought wryly.

"Here – I found it among the supplies," I said, flipping the token to him. He caught it deftly, rubbing his thumb over the worn grooves as his eyes moved slowly over our supplies.

"Those journals…might I have a look at them?" he added, and I nodded, handing him the bundle. "And that one?" he nodded to the one I was currently holding.

"Cute," I smiled slightly. "If you're hoping for gossip and bad poetry, you've got the wrong girl – it's just a travel log," I added, "and now a shopping list. Maker's breath, we've barely got supplies to last the next few days," I groaned as I looked over the items again.

"Perhaps you are lucky, then, that I simply went hunting, and did not leave you to starve like mewling cubs," Morrigan's voice came from the darkness, and I nearly leapt out of my skin, my journal flying out of my hands and onto the grass.

"Holy _Andraste_ , Morrigan! Please _warn_ me before you do that!" I exclaimed, picking my journal up and tucking away the supplies. I glowered at Alistair as I caught the amused look in his eye – I had always been a bit jumpy, but something about the way Morrigan could sneak up on me like that was just… _unsettling_. Morrigan remained silent at my words as she set about roasting the rabbit she had caught and cleaned outside of camp, but the faintest upturn of her lips betrayed her smugness – she probably thought it was _funny_ that she had startled me so.

oOo

The odd group was camped the next night on the outskirts of an abandoned farm; Adeline crossed her arms as she stood on first watch, observing Alistair carefully. He had a blank look on his face again as he sat on a log, staring at the crackling flame, and she bit her lip, concerned. The girl sat down next to him, gazing at the fire in silence; she didn't think he even realized that she was there – he was staring at the crackling flames, his fingers running absently over his worry token, oblivious to his surroundings.

Adeline tentatively reached out a hand and lightly brushed his arm, and he jumped a bit, looking at her questioningly. "Do you want to talk about Duncan?" she asked softly. Alistair let out a quiet sigh, seeing the concern in his friend's eyes.

"You don't have to do that. I know you didn't know him as long as I did," he replied, although she could hear the appreciation in his voice.

"He was like a father to you. I understand," Adeline said gently. She sat closer to him, placing her hand over his reassuringly, and Alistair looked at her quietly for a few moments. _She's…worried about me?_ Alistair thought, seeing the concern in her clear eyes. _I shouldn't make her worry; I should have kept it together._

"I…should have handled it better. Duncan warned me right from the beginning that this could happen – any of us could die in battle," Alistair sighed, glancing down at Adeline's hand and taking it lightly in his. Her fingers were delicate, and he could feel warmth in them as she twined them with his, trying to comfort him. "I shouldn't have lost it, not when so much is riding on us, not with the Blight and…and everything. I'm sorry," he added, looking at her apologetically.

"There's no need to apologize," Adeline assured him, looking up at him with earnest eyes. Alistair's heartbeat picked up as he held her gaze, seeing sympathy and understanding in them. _She…knows what it feels like. To lose someone…_ he thought, glancing down at the fire.

"I'd…like to have a proper funeral for him – maybe once this is all done, if we're still alive. I don't think he had any family to speak of," Alistair said, and Adeline shrugged.

"He had you," she remarked, and her words cheered him up a fraction. It was true, Alistair thought – in the brief time they had known one another, he and Duncan had become quite close; perhaps it was gratefulness, on his part – that he felt as if he had a debt to repay – but the older Grey Warden really _had_ been like a father to him.

"I suppose he did. It probably sounds stupid, but part of me wishes I was with him. In the battle. I feel like I abandoned him…" Alistair murmured, and Adeline's grip tightened slightly on his hand. Alistair looked back at her, seeing a hint of firmness in her eyes as she held his gaze.

"He saved our lives by sending us to the tower," she argued gently.

"Yes. I know," Alistair replied, closing his eyes for a few moments, taking a breath and trying to collect himself. "I think he came from Highever, or so he said. Maybe I'll go up there sometime, see about putting up something in his honor. I don't know," he shrugged weakly. "Have you…had someone close to you die? Not that I mean to pry, I'm just…" Alistair trailed off, seeing the sudden look of pain in her eyes. _Oh, oh_ _ **sod**_ _why did I say that? Maker's_ _ **breath**_ _she's going to think you're an insensitive_ _ **idiot**_ _now!_ Alistair thought in panic, watching her warily to see how Adeline would react.

"My mother. She died when I was small," Adeline murmured. "There was always death in the Alienage… Someone you knew yesterday could be found floating in the river the next morning with their throat slit," Adeline sighed softly, shaking her head. "You'd think one would get used to it, but it never got any easier," she said, her eyes growing dark as she thought of something.

She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head; Alistair had never seen her look so vulnerable, and he instinctively wanted to pull her to him. He stopped himself, though – she said that she had been fine with his…admittedly embarrassing overreaction at Flemeth's hut, after which he had apologized, much to her amusement…but he didn't want to overstep his bounds.

"That sounds terrible… I can't even imagine…" Alistair replied gently, and Adeline felt his fingers tighten a bit on hers, trying to comfort her, as she had with him. "Thank you. It was good to talk about this with a friend. It means a lot to me," he added softly, and Adeline looked up at him, a small smile on her lips.

"Maybe I'll go to Highever with you, when you go," she suggested, and Alistair reflected the smile, his eyes soft in the firelight as he looked at her.

"I'd like that. So would he, I think," he replied. As they gazed into the fire, Alistair glanced back at her in surprise, feeling Adeline shift next to him. She had closed her eyes, and was leaning against him with her head on his shoulder. The tension he felt in her shoulders lessened a fraction, and he gingerly wrapped an arm around her, both comfortingly and protectively. Adeline looked up at him with a soft smile, and Alistair's heart calmed as he saw warmth in her eyes, feeling her wrap an arm around his waist as they sat together.

 _We'll…make it through this,_ he thought as she relaxed against him, and he looked up at the starry sky, feeling hopeful for the first time since they had left the Wilds.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	9. Chapter 9: Pretty as a Painting

Chapter 9: Pretty as a Painting

Author note:

I'd just like to apologize in advance – we're going to be spending some time in Lothering, doing Chantry Board requests; I know they're minor quests, but Adeline needs to learn how to be a leader somehow, right?

Disclaimer – I do not own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Hey…do you feel that?" I asked the next morning, as we walked along a path near some abandoned farmhouses. Tall, stone walls ran along the right side of the path, and Morrigan said we were getting close to Lothering. I had felt a strange, tingling sensation in the back of my head, and I could hear a faint, sibilant hiss in the air around me.

"Oh! You've started sensing darkspawn already," Alistair remarked, nodding towards the path. "There's a few of them up that way," he explained. "A few hurlocks and genlocks, and a hurlock Alpha," he added.

"Huh. Well, it _has_ been about a week since the Joining," I replied. "Wait, you can tell the _type_ , too?" I asked curiously, and Alistair nodded.

"It takes a while, but as time passes, you can start sensing the different types…as well as their relative strength. I can't sense the strength bit so well yet, but Duncan says that takes years," Alistair explained.

I paused as I heard faint barking up ahead, glancing back at the others. "There aren't… _dog_ darkspawn, are there?" I asked, and Alistair shook his head.

"Not that I know of, but there _are_ Blight wolves," he said. Suddenly, a large mabari hound ran down the path, heading towards us as he spotted me. He skidded to a halt, turning around and growling as the group of darkspawn ran down the path after him, shrieking and shaking their weapons.

"Oh, lovely," I snorted, drawing my saber. Alistair and I ran forward, taking out some of the larger darkspawn – hurlocks – while Morrigan cast ice magic at a pair of smaller genlocks, who were standing a little ways off with crossbows.

The mabari leapt at a large, armored hurlock, biting hard into the creature's arm and leaving dents in the metal bracer. While the hurlock was struggling to get the dog off, I leapt at him, grabbing my saber with both hands and stabbing into the creature's armpit, where there was a gap in the armor. The hurlock shrieked and fell, and I braced my foot against the creature's armor, yanking out the blade and stabbing it in the throat as it struggled weakly.

"You know…" Alistair began, once the fighting was over, "you're the first rogue I've met that actually _charges_ her enemies."

"Well you _said_ sneaking's not going to work on them, and I'm not the best archer," I argued playfully, and he rolled his eyes at me. The mabari trotted up to me, and I knelt down, holding out my hand. He barked, sniffing my hand and nuzzling it, a big, doggy grin on his face. "Those darkspawn didn't hurt you, boy, did they?" I asked, and the dog barked again, wagging his tail.

"I think he was out there looking for you. He's…chosen you. Mabari are like that – they call it imprinting," Alistair explained, recognizing the dog from Ostagar.

"Does this mean we're going to have this mangy beast following us about now? Wonderful," Morrigan grumbled, and the dog yipped at her, cocking his head.

"He's not mangy!" Alistair replied, and the dog panted, sitting down and looking back at us.

"But…I don't know how to take care of him," I argued, and Alistair rolled his eyes at me.

"He's a war hound. He can look after himself, I imagine," he replied, and the dog gave an affirmative bark. "At any rate, he must remember you helping him back at Ostagar. You're imprinted. Lucky you."

"How does imprinting even work? If it's gratitude, wouldn't a mabari imprint on the first person who _fed_ them?" I asked, and Alistair shrugged.

"I'm not sure. Like I said, dogs and I don't exactly get along," he replied. "I've heard that mabaris imprint based on strength – they look for the pack leader," he added.

"Pack leader? But aren't you…?" I trailed off as Alistair smiled slightly at my confusion.

"I prefer to follow," he admitted.

"Uh…alright, then. I'll…do my best?" I tried awkwardly, realizing that I had actually taken charge of our group – I just hadn't noticed it until Alistair pointed it out to me. "But you're my second, then," I added, pointing to Alistair, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise, although he didn't make an argument against it. "Hmm…now what should I call you, I wonder?" I said as I returned my attention to the mabari, mussing the dog's ears as he made happy grunting sounds, his tongue hanging out. "How about Olan? You like that?" I asked, and he gave an excited bark.

"Olan?" Alistair asked curiously, and I shrugged, a little embarrassed.

"Well…when I was little, my mother gave me a stuffed doll of a mabari hound – she called him Olan, too," I explained, flushing a bit as Alistair chuckled at the sentiment. Olan was wagging his tail, and as I stood, he gave a happy bark, prancing around me as I laughed, patting his head gently.

oOo

Bran was sitting on a crate, his arms crossed as he kept watch on the path. _This plan worked better than I expected,_ he admitted to himself, glancing to the side as Hanric gave a dull laugh, looking at nothing in particular. Bran raised an eyebrow at him, nodding to one of the others for an explanation, and they shrugged. _We need him for the muscle…_ he reminded himself with a small sigh, _and he's your second cousin, after all._

The scruffy man stood as he heard the barking of a dog from further down the path. He glanced at his group, giving a short, sharp whistle, and the men stood to attention, dropping their cards and drinks and lining up behind him, hands on their weapons as they spotted a group of people approaching. Bran glanced at them, suppressing a smile – there were two women and a man, all unarmored. _Easy pickings,_ he thought, crossing his arms.

The leader was a small Elf woman – much to Bran's surprise – with short auburn hair and green eyes, carrying a strange saber at her side. He wondered if she even knew how to use it, looking over her light frame. The human woman was taller, with pitch-black hair and strange yellow eyes. Her clothing – if one could call it that – consisted of a red…sash of some sort, which left very little to the imagination, and a dark skirt and leggings. She had a strange stick strapped to her back, but Bran wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

 _The one's that'll give us the most trouble are the dog and the man,_ Bran thought, his eyes sweeping carefully over the remaining members of the group. The man had gold hair and was quite tall, and very muscular for what Bran assumed was a farmer or merchant. The bandit spotted the shield on his back, but couldn't see the heraldry from this angle. _So maybe not a farmer. Is he a traveling mercenary? Or maybe another one like that Templar we got earlier today,_ he thought, glancing towards the body of the dead Templar nearby.

Bran crossed his arms as the group approached, stopping before his band of robbers, and he adopted a cheerful air, hoping not to resort to violence – the Templar had given his group trouble earlier, and Hanric was still complaining about his wounds.

"Wake up, gentlemen! More travelers to attend to. Led by an _Elf_ , of all things," he said as he pointed at her, and the other bandits chuckled slightly as they saw the short woman. The only one who wasn't amused by this was Hanric, who leaned over and poked Bran in the shoulder, getting his leader's attention.

"Err…they don't look much like them others, you know. Uh…maybe we should just let these ones pass…" he suggested, his voice slow and dull, his eyes lingering on the travelers' swords, and on the dark-haired woman's staff.

"Nonsense! Greetings, travelers!" Bran continued unperturbed, greeting them amicably with a mocking bow.

"Highwaymen. Preying on those fleeing the darkspawn, I suppose," the tall, blonde man muttered, his hand on the hilt of his blade.

"They are fools to get in our way. _I_ say teach them a lesson," the dark-haired woman retorted, crossing her arms and looking at the bandits haughtily. The dog stood by the Elf's side, giving a low, rumbling growl, and she narrowed her eyes slightly at the highwaymen.

"Now is that any way to greet someone? Tsk, tsk, tsk. A simple ten silvers and you're free to move on," Bran proposed, and the Elf crossed her arms, looking over them carefully. She noticed that there were six of them, and nearby lay the dead body of a Templar, freshly killed, the blood still wet on his armor.

"I don't have that kind of coin," she remarked, and Bran cocked his head, looking her up and down and clucking his tongue with a hint of disapproval.

"Ah! And if I don't believe you? How do we solve this predicament?" he asked, and the Elf snorted.

"Do you _really_ want to fight a Grey Warden?" she replied icily, placing a hand on the hilt of her saber, and the bandits behind him began whispering in fright. Bran even jumped a little himself – in the past few days, he and his group had heard some rather disturbing rumors about the Grey Wardens and their involvement in the king's death.

"Did she say she's a Grey Warden?"

"Them ones killed the king!"

"Traitors to Ferelden, I hear."

"Teyrn Loghain put quite a bounty on any who are found."

"Enough!" Bran exclaimed, silencing them with an impatient wave of his hand, shaking his head at their gossiping. "There're still only three of them, and a dog – we can keep the Elf alive and hand her over for the reward once we've killed the others," he added, looking at the woman warily. Hanric nudged his arm again, his expression worried.

"But…aren't them Grey Wardens good? I mean, _really_ good? Good enough to kill a king?" he asked, and the bandit leader sighed, looking the group over once more and wavering slightly under the Elf's glare – he didn't want to admit it to the others, but this woman's sharp eyes unnerved him. He very much didn't want to end up on the pointy end of her saber; of that he was certain.

"You…have a point. Well, let's forget about the toll. We'll just leave you to your darkspawn-fighting, king-killing ways," Bran replied, indicating that the Grey Wardens could pass through.

"Hmm…" the Elf woman said, tapping her chin lightly with the tip of her finger, her eyes flashing at them. "You know, the Grey Wardens _could_ use a donation," she mused, and Bran gave her an incredulous look.

"You…don't say?" he seethed, hand on his knife.

"They is really good, boss. Remember," Hanric reminded him, and he glowered at the girl.

"Well…yes. Twenty silvers? That's all we've…collected today," he relented, tossing her the bag of coins.

"An excellent donation, thank you," she said sweetly. "Now, how about you run along, and leave everything you stole here, hmm?" she asked, and the bandit leader scowled. "Or…I could always slit your throats and leave you for the crows," she added, and he sighed.

"Come on then, let's move along men," Bran relented, and Hanric made a face.

"But I thought you said these refugee types was easy pickings!" he exclaimed, and Bran let out a groan as he saw the Elf's eyes flash dangerously.

"There are better pastures elsewhere," he urged, signaling his men and running off.

oOo

"Hmph, pathetic. _I_ could do better than this shoddy operation," I muttered, idly tossing the bag of coins in my hand. I glanced back at the body of the dead Templar, kneeling down and rummaging through his armor.

"What are you doing?" Alistair asked, looking a bit surprised.

"Trying to find out who this man was. Maybe he's carrying something on him," I replied. I found an amulet and a letter, reading it quickly. "Hmm…Ser Henric was his name, then?" I murmured. _Searching for the Urn of Sacred Ashes? Isn't it just a myth?_ I thought, looking oddly at the note before tucking it and the locket into my pack. "I guess we'll report this at the Chantry."

We walked a little ways down the path, looking out over the village; nearly every patch of flat land was covered by refugees' tents, the uprooted people moving north in a mass exodus to escape the Blight. People were walking about miserably in ragged clothes; skinny children stayed near their parents, their expressions haunted, and even stray dogs looked around with guarded, wary eyes.

"This reeks of desperation and misery; makes me feel a little homesick," I remarked, Olan barking and sitting down beside me, leaning his head against my hip as he looked up at me. I scratched his ears as I glanced back at the others, who had stopped to look at the tent-city as well.

"Well there it is. Lothering. Pretty as a painting," Alistair sighed, crossing his arms and gazing out over the sea of tents and crowds of refugees. The Chantry was further down, towards the middle of the village, and away in the distance rose a windmill on a small hill.

"Ah. So you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you? Falling on your blade in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?" Morrigan asked snidely, and Alistair glared at her, his eyes hard.

"Is my being upset so hard to understand? Have you never lost someone important to you? Just what would you do if your mother died?" he demanded, and Morrigan rolled her eyes.

"Before or after I stopped laughing?" she retorted, and he made a face.

"Right. Very creepy. Forget I asked," he muttered.

"What did you want to talk about, Alistair?" I asked, looking at him with slight worry; he _had_ been rather quiet the past few days.

"His navel, I suspect. He certainly has been contemplating it for long enough," Morrigan scoffed, her eyes scornful. I threw her a look that said ' _not helping_ ' but she ignored me.

"Oh, I get it. This is the part where we're shocked to discover how you've never had a friend your entire life," Alistair glowered at the dark-haired woman, and she glared right back, her yellow eyes flashing menacingly.

"I can be friendly when I _desire_ to. Alas, desiring to be more _intelligent_ does not make it so," she replied. Alistair made a face at her words, shaking his head and shrugging it off, not wanting to get into an argument with her.

"Anyway…I thought we should talk about where we intend to go, first," Alistair suggested, and I nodded.

"I'd like to hear some news; what those highwaymen were talking about…something about a bounty on Grey Wardens?" I asked, and Alistair shrugged.

"We should be careful if Loghain's branded us criminals. Hopefully we'll go unnoticed if we don't draw too much attention," he replied.

"So, you have some thoughts on what we should do, Alistair?" I added, and he crossed his arms, looking out over the village.

"Oh, this should be good," Morrigan muttered, and Alistair ignored her.

"I _think_ what Flemeth suggested is the best idea. These treaties…have you looked at them?" he asked, and I shook my head. "There are three main groups that we have treaties for; the Dalish Elves, the Dwarves of Orzammar, and the Circle of Magi. I also still think that Arl Eamon is our best bet for help. We might even want to go to him first, since Redcliffe's just west of here," he suggested.

"Is there a way to contact the other Grey Wardens?" I asked, and Alistair shrugged.

"Short of leaving Ferelden to seek them out, the only place to send word to would be Weisshaupt Fortress, and that's thousands of miles away – no one stayed behind at the compound in Denerim, and I suspect Loghain's got the place under constant surveillance, anyway," he replied.

"Hmm…well, then, where do we find these people?" I asked, referring to those mentioned in the treaties.

"I can give you directions, if you like," Alistair said, and I nodded. "Arl Eamon would be at Castle Redcliffe, in the far western part of Ferelden next to the mountain passes. If he isn't there, someone will be able to tell us where he is," he began. "If we head eastward towards the Brecilian Forest, we should hear word of one of the Dalish clans that wanders that area. Hopefully they will still be there."

"The Circle tower's near Lake Calenhad…some ways north of Redcliffe, correct?" I asked, and Alistair nodded. I remembered seeing the tall structure as I followed the North Road on my way to Orzammar – it was a rather impressive tower that rose out of Lake Calenhad, and the only way there was by boat.

"Right. We'll have to speak to the First Enchanter Irving; he's in charge of the mages. As for the Dwarves…we would need to speak to their king in Orzammar. That means heading west into the Frostback Mountains, which won't be easy," he replied.

"Hmm…the Dwarves might be having some political troubles of their own," I remarked, and Alistair cocked his head. "Before I left, I heard news that the king's eldest son had been murdered, and that his second son had been accused of the crime. We…may not want to go there first – it might take some time for the city to recover, from what I've heard of the nature of Dwarven politics," I explained, and Alistair nodded.

"Good point. Let's just not wait _too_ long; we don't want to get stuck in the mountains come winter," he replied, and I agreed.

"So…what about Loghain? Where would he be?" I asked quietly, and Alistair looked at me carefully as he saw the hint of anger in my eyes.

"If he isn't out in the field with his army, he's probably going to be at the palace in Denerim," he replied. "We can go to Denerim, but somehow I suspect that they're not going to let us just walk around. Only a suspicion, of course," he added cautiously, and I nodded.

"So, what do _you_ think we should do, Morrigan?" I turned, looking at the dark-haired woman as her eyes moved carefully over the village. She glanced back at me, shrugging.

"Go after your enemy directly. Find this man, Loghain, and kill him. The rest of this business with the treaties can then be done in safety," she replied. _I'd very much_ _ **like**_ _to do that…but I can't imagine it would end well. And Loghain would see something like that coming from a mile away._

"Yes, he certainly wouldn't see that coming! And it's not like he has the advantage of an army and experience and –" Alistair argued, and Morrigan shot him a glare, cutting him off.

"I was _asked_ for my opinion and I _gave_ it. If your wish is to come up with reasons why something _cannot_ be done, we will stand here until the darkspawn are upon us," she retorted.

"Alright, let's get a move on _without_ killing one another, please," I said quickly, stepping between the two before they could start fighting.

"Fair enough. Let's head into the village whenever you're ready," Alistair said, letting me lead the way. We walked through the desperate crowds of refugees, and I looked down at Olan, who was sniffing around curiously. I patted his back, and the dog nuzzled my leg affectionately, his tail wagging as he let out a happy bark. Ragged children ran by, watching me with big eyes as their gaze lingered on my blade, and I shuffled uncomfortably under the wary looks of the refugees. At that moment, I very much hoped that whatever descriptions of the Grey Wardens had been given were inaccurate, because if all of the refugees tried to take us down at once, we wouldn't live long enough to say 'archdemon'.

"So…let's talk about your mother for a moment," Alistair began, speaking to Morrigan as the two walked a little ways behind me. I refrained from glancing over my shoulder at the two, instead, looking up at the sky as the sun reached its peak. _If we don't get through Lothering soon, we may have to spend the night. With the amount of refugees, I highly doubt that any inn, or even the Chantry, will have room to take us,_ I thought.

"I'd rather talk about _your_ mother," the dark-haired woman replied smoothly.

"There's nothing to talk about. And besides, isn't _your_ mother a scary _witch_ who lives in the middle of a forest? _Much_ more interesting," Alistair countered, and I could almost feel Morrigan rolling her eyes at him.

"To you, perhaps; _you_ would find the moss growing upon a _stone_ interesting," Morrigan said. Alistair continued, unperturbed.

"You know what's _more_ interesting than that? Apostates. Mages _outside_ of the tower. That's _illegal_ , you know," Alistair remarked.

"You did not read that in a book somewhere, did you? I hope the small letters did not strain you overmuch," Morrigan retorted.

"Or we could not talk about your mother. That works for me," Alistair relented sourly. I bit my lip at them, amused at how badly they got along. _They're like a pair of bickering children_.

Once we passed by a particularly large group of tents, we came to a path bordered by waist-high fencing, a lone Templar standing in the middle. He held up a hand in greeting, his voice weary as he spoke to me. "Move on if you can. Lothering's lost," he warned, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Just passing through," I assured him. "I was looking for some news, actually," I added, and he shrugged.

"You _might_ find that, though it's probably just frightened gossip," he replied, his voice sounding muffled through the metal visor. "We've had refugees streaming from the south for the last few days, and the Chantry and tavern are full to bursting. There simply isn't enough food to go around, and we Templars can barely keep order. You'd be better off elsewhere, my friend," he sighed, and I nodded; I had suspected that there wouldn't be any available lodging.

"Thanks for the warning," I said.

"Best of luck wherever you might go," the Templar replied, letting us pass through. We walked along a beaten path, spotting a small supply wagon near the Chantry, an old Sister and a merchant in the middle of a heated argument.

"We need to get out of Lothering soon…but we need supplies," I groaned as I watched the woman and the merchant quarrelling, knowing that someone would have to step in. That person most likely being me. After listening to their arguments and finally coming to a compromise, much to Morrigan's displeasure, we were able to buy supplies.

Despite Alistair's protests, I bought him a new set of splint-mail before anything else, arguing that I had more than enough to take care of it, and ignoring his promises to pay me back when he had the coin. As he continued to bother me about it, I snorted with impatience, turning and looking up at him, poking him lightly in the chest with a finger.

"You can repay me with your body tonight," I said offhandedly, knowing it would shut him up, and he suddenly flushed a violent shade of burgundy, remaining silent for the rest of the transaction. The merchant didn't have any lighter armor, anyway – in fact, he only had the set of splint-mail because a deserter from the king's army had passed through on his way north and sold it to him.

We also bought food, and I bought myself and Alistair a sturdy pack each, in which we evenly distributed the supplies. The way Morrigan was glaring at me after the exchange with the merchant, I wasn't about to dare ask her to carry anything. I also bought some potion-making supplies for her and gave her my bag of elemental crystals as a peace offering, buying some basic trap-making material for myself; Daveth had taught me how to make traps, and I figured that the skill would come in handy, even if it was just setting up a few simple leg-hold traps around our camp at night.

I paused as I spotted a man in Chantry robes standing near a large signboard, letters and missives posted with tacks on the cork surface. _Is that…a request board? They're still running?_ I wondered, almost amused as I looked at it. _Well, if there's a time when people need help the most, I guess it's now._ Alistair glanced over at the man, following my half curious, half amused look. "The Chanters are still running their request boards? Now _that's_ dedication," he remarked, and I smiled, heading over and ignoring Morrigan's impatient groan.

"Anything of interest on the board?" I asked the Chanter, and he smiled eagerly.

"Blessed are the peacekeepers, champions of the just," he replied with a nod, and I crossed my arms, looking at the missive.

"…bandit attacks? Hmm…" I murmured, taking down the note and reading it over. "What say we do a bit of hunting and bring in some coin, ey?" I asked my companions, and Morrigan snorted.

"One would think we have more pressing matters _elsewhere_ ," she urged, and Alistair raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you'd be used to the idea of hunting down men in the woods," he remarked, and Morrigan scowled.

"Only Templar fools like yourself," she replied scathingly, and I smoothly inserted myself between the two, my eyes still focused on the note. Morrigan tossed her head scornfully, but Alistair ignored her, reading the missive over my shoulder instead.

"Might be a bit of a challenge with only the three of us, though," I admitted, glancing down at Olan's angry bark. "Sorry, four," I amended, and the dog let out a happy yip, his tail wagging at my acknowledgement. "I mean, we _could_ wait 'til nightfall and attack under the cover of darkness, but I don't know the terrain well enough – with my luck, we'll end up falling down a ditch and never being heard from again," I mused.

"I suppose we'll just have to see to it when we get there. The note isn't exactly very detailed," Alistair said encouragingly, and I smiled slightly.

"Make the best of what we have, hmm?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"Isn't that why I'm here?" Alistair remarked wryly, his tone self-depreciating and I snorted.

"Oh don't be like that," I chided gently, " _I'm_ glad you're here." At my words, he brightened immediately, and I tried not to laugh; he was suddenly like an excited puppy.

"If you two are quite finished, I suggest we see to these bandits before nightfall," Morrigan spoke up, crossing her arms and watching us without any trace of amusement in her eyes.

"Yes ma'am," I replied, lightly tapping Alistair's arm with the back of my hand as we continued, checking on the new armor. "It fits, right?" I asked as we walked, and the man nodded, shrugging slightly so that the cuirass settled more snugly over the mail hauberk.

"Yes. I'm _still_ not sure why the darkspawn wanted my armor so badly in the first place, actually," he admitted, and I shrugged. "And I think _you_ should get some armor the first chance we get," he added in a more stern tone, and I rolled my eyes.

"Alistair, you know my fighting style; it'd only slow me down," I argued, and he shook his head.

"Well what happens when you get caught by an ogre, then?" he countered, and I snorted.

"I'll just not get caught," I replied glibly, and he scowled. "And besides, I doubt armor can protect you from getting crushed to death. Might actually make it worse," I added. Alistair was quiet for a few moments, his eyes suddenly distraught and unfocused, but when I asked what was wrong, he refused to answer. I raised an eyebrow at Morrigan, looking for an answer, but she didn't really seem to care about what we had been saying. "Alright, I'll see if I can get a thicker leather vest, at least," I promised, which seemed to hearten him slightly.

We continued through Lothering, but as we neared a small bridge, I glanced to the left and stopped; a family of three Elves was sitting nearby – a husband, wife, and their small daughter. A pang of sadness went through me as I saw their misery, and the man glanced up, seeing my look. He walked over cautiously, nodding politely to me in greeting. "Greetings to you, my lady. If it…isn't too much to ask, might you be able to spare some bread?" he asked, and I gave him a bit of my traveling rations.

"What happened to you?" I asked softly, looking back at the Elf's wife and daughter.

"We thought it'd be safer in Lothering, that the Teyrn would bring his soldiers here. But bandits attacked us and took everything! Our food…our clothes…my daughter's pet lamb," the man replied, sighing. "Nobody cares about a few Elves like us. Surely you understand," he added, and I gave a small nod. I glanced back in the direction we had come from, crossing my arms.

"We met those bandits and drove them off," I said, and the man's eyes widened in surprise.

"That's wonderful news! Perhaps our belongings are still there!" his wife exclaimed, putting her hands on her daughter's shoulders.

"I can't thank you enough, friend. Even if we don't get everything back, it's good to know others will be safe," the man smiled, shaking my hands vigorously and heading off with his family.

"So, are you to help every misfortunate soul that crosses your path?" Morrigan asked with distaste as she watched the Elves leaving.

"I understand that you don't like it, Morrigan," I replied, "but…I can't in good conscience _refuse_ to help them," I sighed, seeing her look of impatience. "I know, I know, I'm a fool with a bleeding heart – too soft for my own good. How _ever_ have I survived for so long in this cruel, cruel world?" I snorted humorously as I placed a hand over my heart, grinning as she rolled her eyes at my melodramatic tone. We crossed the bridge, entering the residential area of the village, and I glanced around as I heard faint strains of gossip floating about.

"Did I hear that right?" I wondered, once we had given a few healing poultices to an old woman in charge of the refugees, and Alistair glanced over to me curiously.

"Hear what?" he asked, and I nodded towards where I had heard the gossip.

"Apparently there's a _Qunari_ here, in Lothering," I replied.

"What? Really?" he replied. "I wonder what he's doing here? If the rumor's even _true_ ," he added, and I shrugged. "I've never seen a Qunari before, but they're supposed to be giants," he added, and I cocked my head.

"I've seen a couple of Qunari mercenaries in Denerim – pretty scary, I'll admit; they're a good head taller than you, and they've got these creepy purple eyes that stare _right_ into your soul," I recalled, and Alistair seemed thoughtful at this information. Olan barked, suddenly trotting off, and I raised an eyebrow at him. "Olan? Where are you going?" I called, but the mabari ignored me. "Huh…" I remarked, unsure what to make of this.

"He'll be back – a mabari never leaves his master's side for long," Alistair assured me, seeing my look of confusion.

"…if you say so," I replied. As we headed towards the tavern – Dane's Refuge, by the signpost hanging over the door – Morrigan crossed her arms, leaning against a nearby stack of barrels.

"I hope you are not hoping to find a room for the night – I have little doubt that the tavern is full," she remarked, and I shrugged. There were still a few hours before sunset, but if we wanted to see to the bandits before nightfall, we probably _would_ end up having to spend the evening in Lothering.

"I just want to head in and hear some news. Would you…like to stay out here?" I offered, seeing the slight look of discomfort on her face.

"What, you don't like crowds?" Alistair asked almost scathingly, and Morrigan glowered at him.

"I just do not enjoy being in such close proximity to unwashed refugees. I find it intrusive and offensive," she retorted.

"You grew up in a _swamp_. Is cleanliness really–"

" _Fair enough_ ," I interjected quickly, positioning myself between the two and giving Alistair a pointed look. "We'll be quick, I promise," I added, and Morrigan shrugged, not seeming to care either way. "You know, it's like you're just _asking_ for it sometimes," I murmured to Alistair, once we were out of earshot.

"Whatever do you mean?" he asked, giving me his best innocent look, and I let out a humorous breath, unable to stay frustrated at him for very long. He was very good at manipulating me with those big, brown, puppy-eyes of his, even if he wasn't aware of it – although I suspected he _was_ – and I silently cursed my weakness for cute things.

"We need to work _together_ ," I said, looking up at him firmly, "which we can't _do_ if I'm constantly holding you two back from tearing each other's _throats_ out," I continued. "And I swear, if I didn't know for a _fact_ that you despise her, I'd say you two were acting like little kids trying to _flirt_ with each other," I added, and Alistair looked almost disgusted at the thought.

"Great. Thanks. You've ruined my appetite for the next week," he grumbled sarcastically, and I chuckled.

"Oh really? I didn't think anything could hold you back, the way you tear into your food like every bite's your last," I joked, elbowing him playfully. He raised an eyebrow at the jab, looking like he wanted to say something but thinking better of it. As we neared the tavern, a grumpy-looking man nodded to Alistair and me, leaning against the wall as he smoked a carved wooden pipe.

"You might not want to go in. Tavern's full, and those soldiers are being a nuisance," he warned, and I glanced at the tavern door.

"Soldiers?" I asked curiously, but also slightly worried; were they the Teyrn's men, searching for Grey Wardens?

"They're not here to _defend_ us. They were looking for someone…before they started drinking," he scoffed, turning his head and blowing out a cloud of smoke. "I hear they almost killed a man because they didn't like his face. I wonder if they're deserters from the king's army?" he mused, a grim set to his jaw as he shook his head. "You'd think those soldiers could at least run off the _bandits_. I hear _someone_ gave them what they deserved. Wasn't you, was it?" the man asked, seeing that Alistair and I were armed, and I shook my head – while gratitude and a potential reward for our help was tempting, I thought better of it, not wanting to draw too much attention to us.

"No. Why do you ask?" I replied, and he shrugged.

"It would be nice to thank whoever did it, that's all. Good luck to you," he said, nodding in farewell.

"You think those soldiers are the Teyrn's men?" I asked, and Alistair nodded.

"There's a good chance of that. You still want to go in?" he replied, slightly concerned.

"Yes – I want to hear some news, and maybe ask where we can buy supplies," I said. "Hopefully the Teyrn's men are too drunk to recognize us," I added optimistically, walking up to the door. Alistair stepped in front of me, opening it for me and holding out a hand.

"Ladies first," he offered, and I smiled faintly at him.

"My, how chivalrous," I replied with a hint of teasing, walking into the tavern. The place was packed with refugees; people sat in every available chair, crowding along the walls and up against the banister on the second level. They all looked miserable and ragged, and I tried to keep my expression level as we walked through them, heading to the bar to ask the barkeep for any news. One thing was for sure, even without me asking – there were no available rooms.

As Alistair talked to the barkeep, I leaned against the counter, glancing around warily, keeping an eye out for the Teyrn's soldiers. I noticed a young woman dressed in Chantry robes watching the two of us intently from across the room; she had short, coppery hair that hung about her face and ears in feathery layers, accentuated with a thin braid over one ear, and a pair of bright, crystal-blue eyes that shone like aquamarines as she looked at us. I averted my gaze when our eyes met, glancing over to a group of men hassling a merchant nearby as their voices rose in volume with frustration.

"And I _told_ you, I haven't seen _any_ Grey Wardens!" the merchant said firmly, crossing his arms and scowling. The old man was surrounded by three soldiers, and two more sat at a table nearby, watching the exchange. The crowd murmured softly, looks of disapproval on their faces, but no one moved to do anything – the soldiers were causing enough trouble without any provocation.

"This village is right on the Imperial Highway – they _had_ to have passed through; there's no way they'd cut through the wilds with the darkspawn everywhere," one of the soldiers argued. "One's an Elf woman, skinny waif with red hair, carrying an unusual sword, and the other's a tall, tow-headed fellow with a Templar's shield," the man described, and I felt my face go white as the eyes of some of the tavern patrons landed on me; their gaze felt like red-hot irons poking into my back.

I turned around slowly, pulling my hair over my shoulder and twisting the short strands nervously in my hands, glancing up at Alistair, who had tensed slightly. The inn's atmosphere was suddenly very unfriendly, and I wanted to be out of there as soon as possible; anything to escape the accusing eyes of the refugees. "Time to go," I murmured, and he nodded, placing a hand on my shoulder as we headed towards the door, trying to look casual.

"Well. Look what we have here, men. I think we've just been blessed," the leader of the soldiers remarked, and the two of us froze, my hand on the door.

"Of course…" I breathed, looking back at the commander.

"Didn't we spend all morning asking about an Elf and a man by this very description? And everyone said they hadn't seen them?" another one of the soldiers asked, and the commander glared around at the refugees.

"It seems we were _lied_ to," the commander growled, his hand on his sword.

"Gentlemen, _surely_ there is no need for trouble. These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge," a smooth, Orlesian voice interjected; the Sister swept over to us, trying to be diplomatic as she stood a little way between our two groups.

"They're more than that. Now stay out of our way, Sister. You protect these traitors, you'll get the same as them," the soldier retorted.

"Tch, _traitors?_ You're joking, I hope," I muttered, keeping a hand on the hilt of my sword. "Miss, please stand back – I can't protect you if you get involved," I added to the Sister, and she crossed her arms.

"Hmph, protect me? I can protect myself," she grumbled, a hint of offense in her eyes, and I raised an eyebrow. I noticed her posture for the first time – shoulders strong and firm, straight back; not the usual demure bearing of a Chantry Sister. "I had hoped to intervene, but it seems that these men will blindly follow their master's command even unto death," she remarked, and the commander scowled at her.

" _I_ am not the blind one! I served at Ostagar, where the Teyrn saved us from the Grey Wardens' treachery! I serve him gladly!" the man yelled.

"What treachery? We were _winning_ , and the Teyrn _retreated!_ " Alistair argued, but we saw that he wasn't going to be swayed.

"Enough talk. Take the Wardens into custody. Kill the Sister and anyone else that gets in your way," the commander ordered, and his soldiers gathered around us, drawing their weapons, the metal gleaming threateningly in the firelight.

"Son of a tied down–" I muttered, taking a step back as the men charged. When one man neared me, I stepped on his foot, tripping him up and crashing the pommel of my saber into the side of his helmet as I drew the blade, knocking him down. I whacked him over the head with the saber's hilt as I untied the scabbard from my belt, laying him out and turning to defend myself as the commander attacked me, shouting 'for Teyrn Loghain!' as he charged. Alistair punched one of the other soldiers in the face, breaking his nose with a sickening crunch before sliding his shield onto his arm, and the Sister grabbed a clay jug off a nearby table, smashing it into a man's helmet and spilling water over him as it shattered.

The refugees scattered as we fought, screaming and jostling each other around. Alistair, the Sister and I tried to take the soldiers out without killing them, knocking them out with objects around the tavern, or with the blunt ends of our weapons. The fight stopped abruptly when I wacked the commander over the head with a tankard, the metal crashing against his helmet and making it ring, knocking him to the ground as he gripped his head.

"Alright, you've won! We surrender!" he cried out, holding a hand up and halting the other soldiers, who were more than happy to stop fighting.

"Good. They've learned their lesson and we can all stop fighting, now," the Sister added. I glared at the man, stepping forward and pressing my foot against his chest, forcing him to lie flat on the ground. I slowly unsheathed my sword and placed the tip of it at his throat, the blue runes along the blade glowing faintly. His Adam's apple moved nervously as he swallowed, brushing by the metal as it lightly touched his skin.

"They wouldn't show the same mercy, were our positions reversed," I muttered darkly, and the man stared at me with round, frightened eyes.

"Please! Wait!" he gasped, feeling a drop of blood run over his throat as I lightly pricked his skin, trying to put the fear of the Maker in him.

"They have surrendered! They were no match for you! Let them be!" the Sister argued, glaring at me disapprovingly.

"Take a message to Loghain, then, shem," I growled, my eyes cold as ice.

"W-what do you want to tell him?" he stammered. I smirked suddenly, baring my teeth at the frightened man.

"He'll have to do better than _this_ ," I replied mockingly.

"I'll tell him. Right away. _Now_. Thank you!" the man cried as I stepped back, taking my blade off his throat. He scrambled to his feet, tripping over himself in his hurry to get away from me. I stood in silence, watching him flee from the building with the other soldiers following close behind, their eyes glazed with fear as they ran past me.

"Morrigan's going to be pissed that I let them go," I remarked sourly, glancing up at Alistair.

"Well, _I'm_ glad you didn't go through with that, at least," he replied, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Right," I sighed, sheathing my blade and buckling the scabbard back onto my belt. "Loghain knows we're coming now, though. If things weren't hard before, they will be now," I added, trying not to sound too peeved.

"Well you didn't have to be so cocky about it. Maker's breath, why are you sending him _threats_ now?" Alistair almost laughed, and I crossed my arms, glancing away as my cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

"Er…yeah, that was…pretty dumb, I'll admit. I got caught up in the moment, I guess," I confessed with a small shrug. Alistair shook his head helplessly at my hot-headedness, and I scowled at his smile, which only widened it into a smirk.

The Chantry Sister walked over, looking us both over carefully. "I apologize for interfering, but I couldn't just sit by and not help," she apologized, and I looked her over, relieved that she hadn't gotten hurt. _It's bad enough that we're causing trouble here – I wouldn't want someone uninvolved to get injured because of us,_ I thought, watching her.

"I appreciate what you tried to do," I replied, glancing around uncomfortably as refugees looked at us, whispers and murmurs of 'Grey Wardens' and 'traitors' echoing through the tavern. "We…uh, should really get going, before we cause any more trouble, though. Right?" I asked Alistair.

"Right," he replied, looking tense as the gossip drifted around us, people calling us murderers and king-killers.

"Are we getting a move on? Good plan. Where will we be heading then?" the Sister said cheerily, her tone eager.

"Well, we should head west for…wait a minute," I paused, looking back at her as I realized what she had said. "Pardon, what?"

"Oh, am I getting ahead of myself? So sorry," the cheery girl apologized, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the Chantry here in Lothering. Or I was," she said matter-of-factly, and I raised an eyebrow at her.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" I asked.

"I joined the Chantry to live a life of religious contemplation, but I am no priest, not even an initiate," Leliana explained, and I glanced up at Alistair.

"Well, I…suppose there's no harm in just talking – it's not like our identities are _secret_ anymore," Alistair remarked.

"I guess you're right," I agreed with a small sigh, still uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the refugees. "I'm Adeline, and this is Alistair," I introduced us, and Leliana smiled, looking at me with bright, curious eyes.

"They said you were a Grey Warden. I'm surprised you're an Elf, but Elves must want the Blight defeated as much as humans, no?" she asked, and my eyes widened with surprise at the…obliviousness of the statement. _She…uh…_ _ **does**_ _know that that was kind of offensive, right?_ I thought, although I was more surprised by her directness than insulted by her words. "I know after what happened, you'll need all the help you can get. That's why I'm coming along," Leliana added, and I snorted.

"I'm sorry, Sister, but you are _very_ mistaken," I replied, my tone firm; she could fight, yes, but I wouldn't feel right about putting a cloistered sister in danger. She didn't seem put out in the least; in fact, I think my words only encouraged her.

"Ah, I thought you might say that, but you see, the Maker wants me to join you," Leliana replied. I stared at her for a moment, looking at Alistair.

"Oh, right. Well then…Alistair…let's back away _very_ slowly," I said out of the corner of my mouth, and Leliana looked at me pleadingly.

"I-I know that sounds…absolutely insane – but it's _true!_ I had a dream…a _vision!_ " she cried, her tone desperate.

"More crazy? I thought we were all full up," Alistair remarked, looking at her doubtfully.

"Hmm…you know, I ate some weird _mushrooms_ once…" I began, and Leliana made a frustrated sound in her throat.

"I was not _hallucinating!_ Look at the people here," she exclaimed, indicating the refugees milling about the tavern. "They are lost in their despair, and this darkness, this _chaos_ , will spread. The Maker doesn't want this," Leliana argued. "What you do, what you are _meant_ to do, is the Maker's work. Let me help!" she urged.

"Her plea seems wholehearted, and even though she seems a little…strange, she _does_ have skill. I vote to let her come along," Alistair added, and I made a face at him.

"Alistair, she's one archdemon short of a Blight," I remarked.

"Yes, but she seems more…'Ooh, pretty colors!' than 'Muahaha! I am Princess Stabbity! Stab, kill, kill!'," Alistair replied, and Leliana crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Don't make me stab-kill _you!_ " I retorted, looking firmly up at him. "Oh, no, don't do that," I groaned, glancing back at Leliana; she was looking at me with her big, blue eyes, fluttering her eyelashes at me. "Alistair, we should really just…" I trailed off as I glanced at him; he was giving me the sad-puppy eyes as well. I scowled at him, putting my hands on my hips in exasperation. "I-I…you _know!_ " I accused, furious at how easily he was manipulating me, but the shine of amusement in his eyes only made it _more_ difficult to ignore him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied innocently. I looked between the two of them, throwing my hands in the air with a frustrated groan; I just couldn't take it any longer.

"Maker's breath! _Fine_. You're _lucky_ I'm such a pushover," I muttered, glaring at the two as they exchanged a triumphant look. "Now let's get out of here before more of Loghain's men show up. I might _actually_ kill someone this time, mercy be damned," I added, heading outside with the two of them at my heels.

oooo

"I do believe that there is a strange woman following you," Morrigan remarked, once we rejoined her. She looked at Leliana carefully, her eyes slightly curious and slightly guarded as she noticed the Chantry robes the girl was wearing.

"Right. Morrigan, this is Leliana. She will be…um… _joining_ us now," I introduced them awkwardly, my voice quiet as Morrigan's eyes flashed.

"A pleasure meeting you, Morrigan," Leliana said politely, and Morrigan snorted, looking at her with contempt and ignoring the girl as she glanced back at me.

"Will you pick up every stray you come across, Adeline?" she asked, and I bit my lip.

"We…need the help," I admitted, sighing as I saw the displeased look on her face.

"We should not linger in this area – the Chasind folk are beginning to suspect I am no mere traveler," she replied, pushing herself off the pile of crates and walking off ahead of us, heading towards the northern edge of the village, past some farmhouses.

"It's going to get dark soon, and I still want to check out those bandits…" I remarked, narrowing my eyes as the sun made its way toward the horizon. We had a good three hours, I estimated, before it would be too dark to explore the woods safely.

"And we'll need to find somewhere to sleep – I can't imagine the Chantry has any available space," Alistair remarked. Leliana glanced between us, crossing her arms.

"There are some abandoned barns and sheds by the edge of town we might use – the refugees avoid them for fear of darkspawn, but I do not think you have much to worry about," she chimed in, and we glanced at her.

"Oh? Well that's convenient," I observed. "Once we've seen to the situation with the bandits, we'll check it out," I added. Olan returned once I had finished speaking, carrying a dusty bottle of wine in his teeth. "What've you got there, boy?" I asked, looking at it and whistling. "Sun Blonde Vint-1? Where'd you even _find_ this?" I wondered. Olan let out a happy bark, his tail wagging as he pranced around eagerly. "Aw, good dog," I smiled, patting his head.

"Oh, what a handsome dog! Is he yours?" Leliana asked, kneeling down and letting Olan sniff her hand. The mabari was looking at her curiously, his eyes bright with excitement.

"Yes. Olan, this is Leliana," I replied, and Olan let out a happy yip as the girl scratched behind his ears. "Come on, I would prefer not to get lost in the woods at night," I added, and Leliana nodded.

We passed by some ragged-looking refugees, and I heard an argument to my right; a farmer was complaining to a Templar about a pair of Chasind – a man and woman – who stood nearby, watching him with wary, suspicious eyes. They spotted Morrigan as we passed, and began muttering something in their strange language. _Do they know she's a witch?_ I wondered, trying to put the thought out of my head; we didn't need more trouble, especially after what had happened in the tavern.

I let out a small sigh, noticing that Morrigan was still angry, and Alistair glanced down at me. "Oh, don't worry yourself about her. She's just being a witch. With a 'b'," he remarked, and I felt the corner of my mouth curl into a smirk, biting the inside of my cheek to try and stop it.

"Hush Alistair, or she'll turn you into a toad; we can't fight the archdemon like that," I murmured, and he shrugged.

"Well, if he eats me, I'll try to choke him on the way down," Alistair replied, and I laughed.

"I guess when you put it _that_ way…" I grinned, pausing as I heard a strange, quiet chant up ahead. Morrigan had stopped as well, standing near a fence and looking over to the left of the path, where a large metal cage stood. _What the…why is_ _ **that**_ _there?_ I wondered, curiosity piqued as I walked over, joining Morrigan.

There was an odd man sitting inside the cage; he was a giant, with brown skin covered in bulging muscles and ribbed scarring along his thick arms. His hair was pure white, braided tightly in neat rows against his scalp and over his short, pointed ears, pulled back into a knot behind his head. He had a regal, proud face, with a prominent jaw, a hawk nose, and shocking violet eyes. _A Qunari. So there really_ _ **was**_ _one here after all,_ I thought, looking at him curiously as he chanted something quietly under his breath, his eyes half-closed as he stared at the ground in front of the cage.

"Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun…" he murmured, glancing at me as he heard my approach. "You aren't one of my captors," he stated in his quiet, deep voice. It rumbled with power, and I fought not to look down, slightly intimidated by the Qunari, even with the cage between us. Leliana came up next to me, looking at the giant man and nodding towards him with a small frown.

"I remember the Revered Mother mentioning this man. She called him a savage from the far north," she explained, and I crossed my arms.

"I'd not call the Qunari savages," I snorted quietly under my breath. "I saw them sometimes in Denerim," I added, and the Qunari seemed to stiffen slightly at my words. "What he's doing this far south is anyone's guess. He doesn't look like a mercenary," I added. Par Vollen and Seheron were quite a ways north of here; what was a lone Qunari man doing down in these parts?

"I have nothing to say that would amuse you, Elf. Leave me in peace," the Qunari said, and I pursed my lips.

"You're a prisoner?" I asked, and he looked back at me with steady, violet eyes.

"I'm in a cage, am I not? I've been placed here by the Chantry," he replied.

"Why?" I asked, and Leliana responded.

"The Revered Mother said he slaughtered an entire family. Even the children," she murmured gravely.

"It is as she says," the Qunari affirmed, and I looked up into his violet eyes without wavering. "I am Sten of the Beresaad – the vanguard – of the Qunari peoples," he introduced himself.

"My name is Adeline. A pleasure," I greeted politely.

"You mock me. Or you show manners I have not come to expect in your lands," he observed. "Though it matters little, now. I will die soon enough."

Morrigan looked over the Qunari with her intense eyes, and I had little doubt of her intentions; her practicality simply wouldn't allow her to let this Qunari warrior slip through our fingers. "This is a _proud_ and _powerful_ creature, trapped as prey for the darkspawn. If you cannot see a use for him, I suggest releasing him for mercy's sake alone," she urged. Alistair made a surprised face at her, raising an eyebrow at her words.

"Mercy? I wouldn't have expected that from you," he directed the comment at the dark-haired woman, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"I would also suggest that Alistair take his place in the cage," she added quickly, and he narrowed his eyes at her, nodding.

"Yes, _that's_ what I would've expected," he retorted.

"I suggest you leave me to my fate," Sten said, and I bit my lip, shifting my weight from one leg to the other.

"So did you _really_ kill all those people?" I asked, and the Qunari looked at me steadily.

"It is so," he replied. His eyes were level, but not without regret.

"How long have you been here?" I prodded; he looked worn out, despite his attempts to hide it, and slightly pale…from what I could tell, at least.

"Twenty days, now. I shouldn't last much longer. Another week at most," Sten replied. _Maker's breath. How cruel can they be, to leave him here like this? Even a murderer doesn't deserve to be left to the darkspawn._

"Aren't you interested in seeking atonement?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Death will be my atonement," he answered simply.

"There _are_ other ways to redeem yourself," I argued, and he shifted slightly in his seat, giving a small nod.

"Perhaps. What does your wisdom say is equal to my crime?" Sten asked.

"I'm going to defend the land against the Blight – you could help me in that," I offered, pausing as a change came over him. A hint of interest brought light to the Qunari's eyes, and he looked down at me very carefully, as if trying to memorize every detail.

"The Blight? Are you a Grey Warden, then?" he asked, and I glanced around warily.

"…no," I replied carefully. Refugees were passing by, heading towards the northern path, and they threw us suspicious looks as we stood around the large cage, wondering why we were speaking to the imprisoned Qunari.

"Strange that you would swear yourself to another's task. It was my impression that such an honor belonged to the Grey Wardens alone," Sten replied, looking at me with slightly narrowed eyes. _Honor, huh? He's one of_ _ **those**_ _types I suppose._

"The Blight is everyone's adversary," I argued, but he seemed doubtful of my response.

"Everyone does not try to fight it," he replied. "My people have heard legends of the Grey Wardens' strength and skill…though I suppose not every legend is true."

"Since the Chantry put you in here, do you think the Revered Mother would let you go?" I asked, trying not to let his words get to me, and he gave a small shrug.

"I would not, were I her," he answered.

"What do _you_ think we should do?" I asked the others.

"Not to put too fine a point on it, but Qunari _are_ renowned warriors. If we could release him, perhaps he might help us," Alistair said, glancing at me.

"Perhaps we can reason with the Revered Mother; I know her, and I am sure she will understand that he can atone for his crimes by battling the darkspawn," Leliana added, and I nodded.

"Maybe we should finish that job for the chanter's board first, though; get into their good graces before asking this," I suggested, and the others agreed. "Well then, Sten, I suppose you'll have to wait a bit longer," I added to the Qunari, who looked at me with indifference.

"I did not plan on going anywhere in your absence," he replied, and I thought I caught a hint of mocking in his tone, my expression souring as I turned away.

oOo

Alistair watched as Adeline led their group through the sparse, hilly area outside of Lothering. She looked about quickly, eyes scanning the hills for signs of danger, and her fingers twitched slightly, ready to draw her weapons at a moment's notice. "Olan, warn us if you smell anything," she murmured to the hound, who gave a short, affirmative bark, trotting a little ways ahead as he began searching out their marks.

Suddenly, the dog gave a low growl, and Adeline motioned for everyone to stay low to the ground – out by an abandoned farmhouse, standing in the field, were a group of six bandits, all fairly well armored. Two had bows, one had a crossbow, and the other three had an assortment of melee weapons. "Do you have a plan?" Leliana asked softly, kneeling behind a fence and poking her nose over the top, watching the men in the distance.

"Um…" Adeline narrowed her eyes, thinking. "Oh, got it. Leliana, you're a rogue, right?" the Elf asked, and Leliana nodded. "Are you more comfortable with ranged weapons, or close combat?" she continued, and Leliana pursed her lips.

"Ranged," she answered, and Adeline nodded slightly.

"Okay. So…Alistair," the woman turned her attention to the Templar, who had been keeping an eye on the bandits. "You and Olan try to sneak around the edge of these fences; keep low, and quiet, and try to get as near the group as you can. Leliana, you hang back for this fight – I want you to stay out of danger until we can get a bow or crossbow in your hands," Adeline continued, and the group nodded, listening intently. "Morrigan, you and I will act as distractions. Once Olan and Alistair are close enough, you start attacking some of the more heavily armored men. Do something flashy – the point is to lure them away from the archers," she elaborated, and Alistair smiled slightly as he realized what she was doing.

"That way Olan and I take the archers out from behind, and cut off any cover fire that they would provide," he continued, and Adeline nodded.

"Right. Just…try to leave the archer's weapons intact," she replied. "And once the archers are down, you can come after the melee fighters and finish them off. That is, if I haven't already," she added with a smirk, and Alistair chuckled.

"Don't get cocky, kitten; their armor's heavier than those other bandits," he teased, and she scowled, blushing as Leliana grinned at the nickname.

" _Kitten?_ " she asked with a laugh, and Adeline turned her glare on the Sister.

"Oh, no, I'm only taking that from _him_. And it's bad enough that I do even _that_ ," she said firmly, and Leliana giggled, nodding slightly. "Now come on, _Chantry boy,_ let's get going before sundown," the Elf added, giving Alistair a pointed look.

"As you wish," he replied, still smiling at her as he followed the fence. He was glad that she was here – he wasn't sure if he could make it on his own. Adeline was like a spot of light in all of the darkness that surrounded him, and he clung to that light; without her he felt a little lost, and the thought of being so reliant on her both heartened him, and disturbed him. _What if she thinks I'm too clingy?_ He wondered as he got into position, ducking behind a fence and peeking over it. _Come on, concentrate,_ Alistair forced his thoughts to quiet down as he waited Adeline's signal.

He thought that it might have been better for _him_ to be a distraction, while Adeline snuck up behind the archers, but he wondered if she had something up her sleeve. _Maybe she thinks they'll come after her because she looks like an easier target,_ he guessed, his grip tightening on his sword. He watched as Adeline suddenly leapt up from behind her fence, and Morrigan cast an ice spell on one of the more heavily armored men. He stifled a laugh – even from where he hid, he could hear Adeline releasing a colorful collection of swears and taunts, and his ears turned red. _Maker's breath,_ he thought with astonishment at the variety and subject matter, although he couldn't argue with her results – the three close-range fighters were charging her like bulls in a blind rage, oblivious to anything around them as they left the archers completely undefended.

Adeline gave a piercing whistle just as the men reached her, and Alistair took that as her signal – he leapt out from behind the fence and ran at the archers, and Olan came charging from the other side, jumping and taking down the crossbowman with a bite to the neck, crushing the man's windpipe. Alistair lashed out with his shield, knocking down one of the archers before defending himself against the other, who had put away his bow and was now fighting with a thin hunting knife.

The Templar held up his shield, blocking the smaller man's attacks and quickly dispatching the one on the ground – he wasn't going to leave an enemy at his back, even if the man was stunned. Alistair chased down the other man as he screamed and tried to bolt, staggering and tumbling head over heels when he tripped over a sudden dip in the ground. Alistair ran him through, cutting the man's throat to end it quickly before turning back to check on Adeline.

He needn't have been concerned, he thought, once he saw her – she was standing surrounded by the bodies of the three bandits, wiping blood from her saber before sheathing it with a faint click. She glanced up at his approach, and her warm smile almost made him stop in his tracks. "Good work," Adeline complimented, and Alistair nodded slightly, glancing back towards the bodies. "You and Leliana search through those three for anything useful," she added, nodding at the archers' bodies as she knelt, inspecting her own kills and emptying their pockets of any valuables.

Leliana plucked a bow from one of the archers, testing the string and nodding with approval as she shouldered it, taking the quiver as well before she began picking up as many arrows as she could. She also took a hunting knife and belt, which she buckled on over her Chantry robes before making a face. "I hope we can find some light armor – these robes are too constricting," she observed, fingering the edge of her dress absently, glancing up as Alistair chuckled.

"Well they're not exactly _meant_ for battle," he remarked, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"But then how do the Templars fight? They wear robes under their armor," Leliana recalled, and Alistair shrugged.

"I wouldn't know – I prefer medium armor myself," he replied.

"You are a Templar?" the girl asked, cocking her head, and Alistair grinned.

"Did the shield give me away?" he teased, showing her the heraldry – the symbol of Andraste – and she blushed.

"Oh, of course," she said, slightly embarrassed that it had slipped her mind. The two made their way back towards Adeline, who had finished looking over the bodies, and was now staring at a crumpled piece of paper with distaste.

"What's wrong?" Alistair asked, immediately noticing her frustration. Adeline glanced up and waved the note at him, scowling at the piece of paper.

"Looks like this was only a small scouting party. There's another one further north of here, by the road out of Lothering, and supposedly their main base is in a cave in the woods, past the river," Adeline grumbled, handing Alistair the note. He looked at it for a long time, narrowing his eyes and turning the paper in different directions.

"You can _read_ this? It just looks like someone was testing their _pen_ , not writing a note," he asked, indicating the odd, jagged lines and swirls, not really seeing any lettering; even while his own handwriting was a bit messy, it was still _legible_. Adeline shrugged, taking the note and tucking it into her vest.

"You wouldn't _believe_ how messy my cousin's handwriting was. She needed me to write _everything_ for her," Adeline replied, the corner of her mouth curling into a small smile as she thought of her family. "Anyway, I think we should try to track them down before dark – once their scouting party doesn't return, they'll get suspicious, and I don't want to get ambushed later on the road because we lost their trail," she added, and the group nodded.

Their strategy for the second scouting band was similar to the first, and now that Leliana could provide cover fire, the armored men that came after Adeline were significantly easier to deal with. "Think we should start keeping score?" the Elf mused, once they were finished looting supplies.

"What, like, an archer's worth two points, a medium armored bandit's three, and so on?" Alistair asked, and Adeline grinned.

"Oh, I was just thinking tallying up how many we finish off. But a point system works too," she joked, and the two glanced back as Leliana giggled at them. "What? This is serious business!" Adeline exclaimed, feigning offense, and Leliana smiled, shaking her head. Morrigan didn't seem to find much amusement in their bantering, focusing instead on inspecting the herbs that grew in the woods they were traveling through.

They nearly stumbled into the bandit's hideout, and were only saved by Olan's low warning growl. Adeline made the others hang back as she and Leliana scouted a little ways ahead, keeping to the shadows of the trees and hiding in the thick undergrowth. "There's…at least a dozen of them," Adeline counted, "and that one's got heavy armor. Alistair's the only one who can fight head-to-head with him," she added, pointing out the lead bandit.

"I…do not think our previous strategy will work here," Leliana remarked, and Adeline nodded, thinking for a moment.

"Hmm…I can make some leg-hold traps and…" she trailed off, murmuring a few more disjointed words to herself as she watched the bandits. Leliana looked at the Elf curiously, occasionally glancing around to make sure they weren't being snuck up on. Adeline sat down in the grass and began making leg-hold traps and snares, and Leliana thought about what sort of plan she had. _Perhaps she will hide them in the woods, and try to lure the bandits into them?_ Leliana thought, glancing up as Adeline finished "Alright," she murmured, tucking the bundle of traps under her arm and pointing to the trees. "Can you climb?" she asked, and Leliana nodded.

"It will be a bit tricky with the dress, but I can manage," the woman replied.

"Okay, I'm going to scatter these through the woods and lead the bandits through them. Try to cover me for as long as I'm in range – I don't want you following after, though, in case some of them turn around and return; if any come back, take them out quickly," Adeline outlined the plan. Leliana nodded and began scaling a nearby tree, making sure she had a good view of the bandits' lair.

Adeline trotted back towards where the others were waiting, hiding leg-hold traps as she went, and relayed the plan to them. "I'll lead them into that clearing over there," she added, pointing to a nearby open area, "and Alistair and Olan will charge in from both sides. Morrigan, I'll need you to cover them." They all nodded their assent, and while Alistair didn't much like that Adeline was continuing to use herself as bait, he couldn't argue with her strategy. "Oh, and a head's-up," she added as she turned to go, "the leader's got heavy armor. Alistair, if you can distract him long enough, I can get at his weak spots – I don't want you to wear yourself out in a drawn-out battle."

"Alright. Just…be careful," Alistair cautioned, and Adeline smiled.

"Careful's my middle name," she teased, and Morrigan scoffed.

" _I_ thought it was reckless self-endangerment," the woman replied, her words only making Adeline's grin widen.

"Ooh, even better!" the Elf laughed, trotting off to set their plan into motion.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sorry this one ran a bit long…and we're not done with Lothering yet. I just couldn't find a good place to cut the chapter without messing up the flow of the next one.


	10. Chapter 10: The Qunari and the Bard

Chapter 10: The Qunari and the Bard

Author note:

Don't worry – this is the last Lothering chapter. Thank the Maker, Right?

Disclaimer – I do not own Dragon Age or and of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Well _that_ sucked," Adeline groaned as they limped wearily back towards Lothering, massaging her right shoulder, still sore from taking a shield-bash from the bandit leader. She had considered bringing back his head as proof of their completed mission, but decided – much to everyone's relief – to take the shield bearing the bandit group's insignia instead.

"Perhaps if you did not charge into battle like that, this would not have happened," Morrigan observed coolly, and Adeline rolled her eyes.

"I _tripped_ , alright?" she grumbled, cringing as her shoulder throbbed with pain. "I'd rather trip and take a shield-bash in the arm than get my _head_ chopped off," she added.

"What about a shield-bash to the face? He could have broken your neck," Leliana countered, glancing over as Alistair let out a laugh before he could help himself.

"She's already done that – taking a buckler to the face, I mean," he explained with a grin, and Adeline snorted humorously, lifting some hair from her forehead and showing Leliana the small, jagged scar over her left temple.

"I got lucky – I Alistair hadn't been there, I'd be dead," the Elf admitted, looking at Alistair gratefully. Leliana glanced between the two, their shared look piquing her curiosity. She wondered if they were trying to hide their relationship; it was obvious – to her at least – that they were together. _Perhaps the Grey Wardens do not allow such things?_ the bard wondered, her eyes moving slowly over her new traveling companions as they made their way to an abandoned barn for the night, thinking about her reason for joining them.

Leliana had woken about a week ago from a terrifying nightmare – a horrible, ungodly sound had echoed around her, and she had fallen into an impenetrable darkness that had blotted out everything. When she had gotten out of bed to go to the Chantry's back garden, trying to calm herself, she had found that the old, gnarled rosebush in the back corner had flowered. Unbelievable, she had thought – the bush had been dead for years, since long before she had come to Lothering – but on that day, a perfect, red rose sat among a cage of thorns, as if the Maker himself had reached out and said, 'have faith'.

Adeline set up traps by the barn door after they had thoroughly checked the interior, securing it for the evening. The Elf took first watch, ignoring Alistair's protests that she was exhausted. "We're _all_ tired, Alistair," she countered, "and I've been asleep for three days; I've had more than my fair-share of rest," she added.

"That doesn't…sleeping time doesn't ' _add up'_ like that," Alistair retorted, laughing at her bizarre reasoning. She ignored his protests, however, threatening to make him sleep outside on the roof of the barn for insubordination if he didn't quit bothering her. Alistair grumbled something at the stubborn Elf before pulling a blanket over him, his mail shirt making a muffled clinking as he moved – he had taken off his boots, cuirass and gauntlets, but he didn't want to be completely unarmored, in case of an ambush.

oooo

 _Alistair was standing in the rain. He wasn't quite sure how he had gotten there, or how long he had been standing; all he knew was that he was miserably cold and wet. He began walking, looking for a tree or a shed or any sort of shelter to get out of the rain. As he walked, his feet felt like lead, and his shoulders ached and throbbed. He was wounded, somehow, and now a battle raged around him, men and darkspawn shouting and screeching through a thick, green fog._

 _He reached for his shield, but he drew an ornate, two-handed sword from his back instead. He glanced down as a genlock fell before him, splattering blood across his gold-plated massive armor, and something in the back of his head was whispering that this wasn't quite right. Before he could react, Alistair was standing down the battlefield, staring at Cailan in horror as the king was grabbed by an ogre, the beast snarling and letting out a bellow in the king's face._

 _"No!" Alistair cried, running forward as the sickening crack told him that Cailan's back had been broken, and the ogre threw him across the field. Suddenly, it was Duncan writhing on the ground in pain, not Cailan, and Alistair snarled in fury as he saw the Warden-Commander struggling to breathe. The younger Grey Warden let out a bellow and charged at the ogre head on, the creature suddenly as tall as a mountain, and stabbed its heart over and over again._

 _Alistair's stomach dropped and his blood chilled in his veins – he was kneeling on top of Adeline, her eyes wide with shock as she stared at the longsword protruding from her chest. "Oh…Maker…" Alistair stammered out, his hands shaking._

 _"Alistair…why?" Adeline coughed, blood pouring from her mouth, "I…thought we were…going to do this…together…"_

 _"Alistair…"_

 _ALISTAIR!_

oooo

Alistair woke with a violent jolt, staring with wide eyes as Adeline held his shoulders. He was taking quick, panicked breaths, and the Elf looked at him worriedly as he trembled like a leaf. He stared up at her, as if he couldn't believe she was really there, and suddenly pulled her down into a tight embrace. "I…Alistair, are you alright?" Adeline asked, startled by the sudden hug. He was silent, his eyes shut tight as his breathing began to even out, his face buried in her hair. Adeline could feel his heart pounding in fright, and remained still as she rested her arms on the ground on either side of his head, waiting for him to calm down.

"N-nightmare…" he whispered in a soft, strained voice as he let go of her, sitting up slowly and running a hand over his forehead and through his hair. He looked at Adeline up and down, and the Elf watched as he grew calm.

"I thought so…" she sighed. "You were moving around, so I thought I'd wake you," she added gently. "Do you…want to talk about it?" Adeline asked, and Alistair let out a long sigh.

"All…alright. But can we sit by the door? I need a bit of air," Alistair replied, getting shakily to his feet, still feeling a bit stiff from waking up so abruptly. Adeline nodded, sliding a hand around his back and wordlessly leading him to the door of the barn, setting him down before going back to get his blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders and sitting next to him.

"Feeling a little better?" Adeline asked softly, and Alistair nodded, taking a few breaths to steady himself. "You don't have to talk, if you don't want to," she added, and he shook his head.

"No…it'll help," he replied. Alistair told her about the dream, how he had been lost in the rain, and had suddenly been swept onto the battlefield, how he had fought the ogre and had been horrified to find that he was killing _her_ instead. He expected her to be disturbed that he had dreamt of killing _her_ of all people…but he saw only gentle understanding in her eyes.

"I'm not surprised that you had such a vivid nightmare – you went through a huge shock. Nightmares…often tell us things that we don't want to hear. Fears, worries…regrets…" Adeline murmured, and Alistair watched her as she fingered the edge of the partially-shuttered lantern nearby, sensing that she was speaking from experience. "I suppose the fact that it was _me_ in your dream means that you're…afraid of being left alone?" she asked softly.

Alistair took a quiet breath, glancing away. "I won't judge you, Alistair – I have no right to. And I…know how it feels to be alone. It's scary," Adeline admitted sympathetically. "I…don't know if it gets any easier, but if you ever want to talk about it, I'll listen," she promised, and Alistair managed a weak smile, gladdened by her presence. They remained in companionable silence for a while, the quiet broken by a loud rumble from Adeline's stomach. "Oh…Maker's breath," she mumbled in embarrassment, covering her face with her hands as Alistair glanced over.

"Adeline, have you eaten yet?" he asked, and she glanced back at him, her cheeks flushed. "Well?" he prodded, not liking that she wasn't meeting his eyes. "You've been skipping meals," he observed, and she jumped.

"I…" she glanced away – she was surprised that he had noticed; she had been trying to hide it as they traveled. "I'm sorry. I just…haven't been able to keep much down these past few days," she admitted, and Alistair sighed. He suddenly realized that while _he_ had had time back at Flemeth's to work through his grief, they had started traveling almost as soon as Adeline had woken up. He assumed that she was still trying to come to terms with everything; she hadn't known the other Grey Wardens for as long, but Alistair had seen the way they treated her – she was like a little girl with a dozen doting brothers and uncles.

"You need to eat. You're underweight as it is – it's dangerous for you _not_ to eat with all the traveling we're going to do," Alistair argued. Before she could say anything, he stood and went to his pack, rummaging around in it and bringing back an apple and a bit of bread. "Eating will help you deal with it," he added softly, and she nodded slightly, understanding his meaning.

"…thank you," Adeline murmured gratefully, taking the food. She took a few bites, and Alistair noted that she immediately looked ill. She took a few deep breaths through her nose, closing her eyes and concentrating until the nausea passed before continuing. Alistair watched her finish everything, and she glanced back at him as he smiled slightly.

"Better now?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Yes, much better," she replied. Adeline looked up at the night sky, watching the stars for a few moments before looking back towards the horizon, remembering that she was supposed to be on watch. "What was it like to be a Grey Warden, with all the others?" she asked after a while, and Alistair glanced over, seeing her curious look.

"I didn't know them for very long, but I guess it was longer than you. You never met them all, did you?" he recalled, and she said that she hadn't. "They were quite a group. Actually, they felt like an extended family, since we were all cut off from our former lives," Alistair admitted, and Adeline smiled slightly – that was exactly how she would have described them. "We also laughed more than you'd think. There was this one time…" he trailed off, his face falling as he looked at the ground. "Well, you probably don't want to hear stories about men you didn't know."

"No, I'd like to hear about them," Adeline encouraged, and Alistair nodded, continuing.

"There was one Grey Warden who came all the way from the Anderfels. What was his name? Gregor? Grigor?" Alistair recalled, cocking his head as he tried to remember the name. "He was a burly man with the biggest, fuzziest beard you've ever seen. And the man could _drink_. He drank _all_ the time, but he never got drunk," he added, and Adeline chuckled, trying to imagine the Grey Warden. "Finally we all made a pool to see just how many pints it would take to put him under the table," Alistair said, and Adeline smiled.

"Sounds like you had a lot of fun," she remarked, and Alistair shrugged, a distant look in his eyes as he remembered the other Wardens fondly.

"Sometimes. We were kin, of a sort. All of us had gone through the Joining, so we knew… Anyhow, it doesn't have to be deadly serious _all_ the time," he replied. "Anyhow, we never _did_ find out. He said he'd drink a pint for every _half_ -pint that the rest of us drank," Alistair continued with a chuckle. "He was _still_ going by the time the rest of us were passed out. I'm told that Duncan walked in later on and saw us all passed out from one end of the hall to the other, and Gregor still drinking. Duncan laughed until he nearly…until…" Alistair trailed off, a pained look on his face, and Adeline reached out and gently looped her arm in his, taking his hand and twining their fingers together.

"I'm sorry. This must be hard for you," she murmured apologetically.

"Yes, I…I suppose so," Alistair managed to keep the waver from his voice, although it still sounded strained. "I thought I was done with this, but… It just struck me that I have nothing to remember Duncan by. Nothing at all. There's no body, not even a token of his that I could…take with me. That must…sound really stupid to you," Alistair murmured, and Adeline shook her head quickly, gripping his hand tightly in hers.

"That's not stupid at all," she replied firmly, and Alistair glanced down at their hands, letting out a small sigh. She thought for a moment, glancing to the side and lifting her blade, placing it across Alistair's lap. " _This_ was Duncan's," she recalled, and Alistair looked at her with wide eyes. "Maybe you should have it," she added.

"I…" Alistair was speechless. He stared between Adeline and the blade, sighing and smiling helplessly at the Elf girl. "No, I can't take that from you," he said. "I don't use sabers, and you'd put it to far better use than I could," he added, before she could argue. "But I appreciate that you would just…give it to me like that." Alistair smiled gently as Adeline glanced away, a faint blush on her cheeks as she gave a small shrug.

"Well I…don't like to see you so sad. Smiles and jokes suit you better," she murmured, so soft that he could barely hear her.

"I suppose there's no use in moaning about it, is there? He's gone," Alistair mumbled, glancing over as Adeline shifted slightly. She faced him, reaching out and placing a hand over his heart.

"He's still here," Adeline said firmly, "in your mind, and in your heart. As long as you remember and honor him, his memory will live on." Alistair placed his hand over hers, smiling slightly at her. _Daveth was right,_ he thought, _she's such a sweetheart._

"Thank you, Adeline," Alistair replied gratefully. He took her hand in his, moving his fingers gently across the back of her knuckles, her skin like velvet. He glanced back at her, thinking of something. "Are you alright?" he asked suddenly, and she raised an eyebrow as he blurted out the question. "I mean, you've been very tense, ever since we got to Lothering," he elaborated, and she looked even more surprised by this.

"You…noticed?" she asked, looking down at her hands, and Alistair nodded. "Um…well…" she trailed off awkwardly, suddenly nervous. "I…uh…don't do well with people since…well, not with shems…" she remarked, and then turned bright red as she realized what she had said. " _Humans!_ I meant _humans!_ " she exclaimed, her voice rising an octave in panic, and Alistair looked at her oddly.

"…why are you getting so worked up?" he asked, almost amused, and she pulled her knees up to her chin, letting go of Alistair's hand as she wrapped her arms around her legs.

"Well, most humans don't take kindly to being called 'shems'," she remarked quietly, and Alistair cocked his head.

"I'm not offended," he said simply, and she glanced up at him with surprise.

"You're…not?" she asked.

"Not in particular," he replied. He smiled slightly, poking her cheek gently, "and how could anyone stay mad at you?" he added with a wink, and she chuckled quietly.

"Oh, quite easily, actually," she joked, catching his hand before he could ruffle her hair. Alistair set his hand gently on her head, instead, and ran his fingers through the auburn strands, smiling as Adeline closed her eyes, the subtle tension in her shoulders fading slightly at his touch. _She…trusts me,_ Alistair realized, hoping he wasn't smiling like an idiot at the thought. "Do you think you've settled down enough to sleep?" Adeline asked after a while, and Alistair nodded, standing and bidding her goodnight, and reminding her to wake him for the next watch.

oOo

My shoulder felt a little better the next morning, not quite so sore, and after a light breakfast – Alistair made sure that I didn't skip the meal this time – we gathered up our belongings and went to report to the chanter's board. We passed over the bridge, and I paused as a small boy with reddish hair nearly ran into me. He looked at me with big, brown eyes, staring at my weapon for a few moments before speaking.

"Have you seen my mother?" he asked, and I knelt in front of him.

"Ugh, begone, small child," Morrigan said with distaste, but I ignored her.

"That depends, what does your mother look like?" I asked the boy, and I held his hand up, indicating something big.

"She's _really_ tall…and she has red hair. We live on a big farmhold, all of us," he described. It was a fairly vague description, but I supposed that I hadn't actually seen many women with red hair among the refugees.

"What's your name?" I questioned.

"My name's Henry," the boy replied.

"Did you get separated from your mother, Henry?" I asked gently, and the boy looked distraught.

"Some mean men with swords came, and mother told me to run to the village as fast as I could, so I did! She said she would be right behind me, but I've been waiting and waiting and I can't see her!" he explained, and I bit my lip. _Poor thing…she's probably dead,_ I thought, looking around; no one seemed to be paying the boy any heed, what with the number of refugees about, and I wondered if his father was anywhere nearby.

"Do you know where your father is?" I asked, and the boy shook his head.

"He went with William to the neighbor's yesterday, but he didn't come back," he replied, and I stood, sighing and looking at him sadly.

"Come with me. I'll help you look for your mother," I offered; even if we only found a body, at least he wouldn't be wandering on his own.

"Mother said I wasn't to go with anyone. I'm supposed to wait for her here in the village," Henry replied firmly, crossing his arms.

"Will you go to the Chantry? Maybe someone can look after you," I suggested, and the boy nodded.

"I will. But only if I don't find Mother, first," he replied.

"…alright, then," I sighed, seeing that he wasn't going to give up. "Here, buy something to eat," I added, giving him some money.

"A whole silver? Wow! Thank you!" he grinned, pocketing the coin. "Umm…so are you really an Elf?" he asked suddenly, and my eyes widened in surprise.

"Did the ears give me away?" I joked, and he smiled a bit.

"Father says that Elves aren't really nice, but you're nicer than everyone else here," the boy said, trotting off to buy food. I hoped that someone from the Chantry would look after him before he tried searching for his mother in the woods.

We headed back towards the Chantry and reported that we had finished our request; the chanter handed us two sovereigns for the job, and I divided it to fifty silver for each of us, handing everyone their money. "You're not going to hold onto it all?" Leliana asked curiously, and I shrugged.

"I'm not going to hoard everything for myself," I replied with a laugh. "And besides, it's nice to have a little bit of spending money for yourselves, right? You leave buying supplies, weapons and armor and such to me," I added, glancing towards the Chanter's board to see if there was anything else. A request to hunt a trio of tainted bears had been posted, as well as a search for a… "Oh dear," I murmured, looking at the note.

"What's wrong?" Leliana asked, reading it over my shoulder. "Oh. That poor boy," she sighed, reading the missive; we were to find a trinket that belonged to Sarha Berne, and return it to the Chanter's board so that it could be given to her son, Henry Berne.

"We can at least bring him a keepsake of his mother's," I said, tucking the missives into my pocket and nodding for us to continue towards the Chantry. People were milling about in agitation nearby, and as we approached the Chantry's courtyard, we spotted the reason; a dark-haired Chasind man was walking around, screaming his head off about doom and destruction. Children hid behind their parents, and desperate farmers and refugees shuffled anxiously about, wringing their hands nervously and staring at the Wilder. "Why doesn't anyone do something about this; he's making everyone panic," I remarked, and I glanced over to the side, where a Templar was leaning against the wall, shrugging at my words.

"Feel free to intervene – I won't stop you," he replied nonchalantly, and I tried not to scowl. _Isn't this_ _ **your**_ _job? You're supposed to keep the peace, not let someone incite a riot like this!_ I thought grumpily, looking back towards the Chasind man.

"The legions of evil are on your doorstep! They will _feast_ upon our _hearts!_ " the Chasind man wailed, staring around at the gathered refugees with crazed eyes, foaming at the mouth. "There is nowhere to run! This evil will cover the world, like a _plague_ of _locusts!_ " _Oh dear. This_ _ **is**_ _bad._

"Please! You're scaring the children!" a refugee man cried, covering his son's ears as the child started crying, frightened by the crazed man.

"Better to slit their throats now than let them suffer at darkspawn hands!" the Wilder replied, whirling around at our group's approach. "There! One of their minions is already amongst us! This woman bears their evil stench! Can you not see the vile blackness that fills her?" he screamed, pointing at me accusingly, and I started. _What the…? Wait, is he talking about the_ _ **taint?**_ _Or is he just trying to scare these people?_

"Can you please keep it down? These people are frightened as is without you making them panic," I asked, trying to reason with him. He shook his head, ignoring me as he continued with his crazed rant, his eyes staring about at the gathered refugees.

"I watched the black horde descend on my people! I will not be silent!" he yelled, glaring at me with mad, red-rimmed eyes.

"P-please! Stop! Somebody shut his mouth!" another refugee cried out, frightened.

"But isn't he right? The Bann left us! We're going to die!" a man replied, and I bit my lip – people were beginning to succumb to the hive-mind that their fear had created.

"This minion is but the _first_ of those who will destroy us!" the Chasind doomsayer wailed, pointing at me again.

" _Please_ , calm down," I said gently, taking a cautious step towards him, as if approaching a wild animal. "Will you tell me what has upset you?" I asked, and the man looked at me with deep sadness in his eyes. He shook his head slowly, pacing back and forth and hugging himself, his shoulders tensing up as he spoke to me, his voice quiet and pained.

"My family, my clan…those creatures butchered them all," he murmured, staring at the ground and shutting his eyes.

"That must have been horrible…" I whispered. "How did you escape?" I asked, taking another slow, careful step towards him.

"I…ran, hearing my wife's screams as they dragged her off. She…had hair the same color as yours," he said quietly, looking down at me as I neared.

"I understand," I said gently, and the man saw the earnest look in my eyes. "Frightening these people, who have also suffered, and lost loved ones, will not bring her back, though," I added, and he sniffed, seeming to calm down.

"You…you are right. I will go," the man sighed, looking around sadly at the refugees before leaving, heading out of the courtyard.

"He was right, wasn't he? There's no hope for us…" a refugee said, staring blankly at the ground ahead.

"Muster your courage," Leliana piped up, stepping forward. "There is always hope, even when all seems lost," she urged, and some of the refugees seemed heartened by her words.

"But…we're farmers, not soldiers; we can't fight! What are we supposed to do?" a refugee man asked, and another one glanced up, crossing his arms.

"We can't lie down and die, either. We must go north, to Denerim!" he said firmly, his eyes full of determination.

I watched them disperse, leaving the courtyard in small groups, their faces brightening a bit after Leliana's encouragement. "Very nice," I complimented the orange-haired woman, and she smiled charmingly.

"You're not so bad yourself," she replied with a wink. Morrigan remained outside in the courtyard with Olan, not wanting to draw undue attention to us; the Chantry was probably not the safest place for an apostate, what with all the Templars hanging about.

The Chantry building was a large, lovely place, even when filled with refugees taking shelter – the walls were high and arched, and alcoves lined the walls, filled with candles that had been lit in prayer. A row of bookshelves had been pushed aside to the left, and the pews had been removed to make room for the blankets and bedrolls of the refugees. Standing on either side of the altar were two large statues, each one holding a bowl of flames, lighting the room.

Nearby, I spotted a few Templars; a man with long-ish, brown hair was giving out orders, and the other Templars nodded, heading out to the courtyard. The man glanced up at our group's approach, nodding to me in greeting. "Yes, my lady? Who might you be?" he asked politely, and I shrugged slightly, not wanting to give out my name.

"Nobody of importance," I replied, and he nodded, respecting the slightly guarded look in my eyes, and not questioning my secrecy.

"I am Ser Bryant, commander of Lothering's remaining Templars. You don't seem like the other refugees. Are you one of Arl Eamon's knights?" Ser Bryant asked, directing the question towards Alistair as the Grey Warden stood by my side.

"Do many of his knights come here?" Alistair replied, curious.

"Some have, in recent days. Arl Eamon has fallen ill, and his knights are on a quest for the sacred urn filled with Andraste's ashes, said to cure any malady," Bryant explained, and I raised an eyebrow. _So that Templar I found, back by the south path…he was one of Eamon's knights?_

"Arl Eamon is sick? Is it serious?" Alistair asked, suddenly worried.

"I'm told it's no natural illness. They have found no cure, and thus must chase after miracles," Ser Bryant replied. "One of the Arl's knights, Ser Donall, is here searching for fantasies while… Never mind. Ask him if you care about this foolishness," he sighed, shaking his head. Evidently, he disapproved of this quest, while a Blight was descending upon the land.

"We need some information, Ser Bryant," I said, and the man nodded, crossing his arms.

"If the matter is important, certainly," he replied.

"What can you tell me about that imprisoned Qunari?" I asked – Sten hadn't really told me all that much, and the rumors around the village weren't reliable. Ser Bryant's face went dark as I mentioned the Qunari, and he sighed, shaking his head slightly.

"I was there at the farmhold. The beast stood there, wet with the blood of the children – he didn't even deny slaughtering them. The Revered Mother ordered him caged – she has more mercy than I do," he rumbled, shaking his head with disapproval. "But perhaps she is right…and the Maker has love for all his creations. Even the Qunari," he added.

"Hmm… Well, have you heard any recent news?" I prodded, and the Templar shrugged.

"Other than the darkspawn horde bearing down on us? None of it is good. Teyrn Loghain is set to declare himself king, I hear. Disaster piled on disaster," he muttered darkly.

"What, _king?_ I can't imagine the nobility will be pleased. Do you think there will be civil war?" I asked, my tone slightly worried; the _last_ thing we needed right now was Ferelden falling to bits over a succession crisis while the darkspawn were building their numbers in the south.

"Teyrn Loghain has no legitimate claim on the throne. He may be a hero, and his daughter may be queen, but he is a commoner and the king's corpse is barely cold," Ser Bryant replied, seeing the anxiety on my face, and perhaps wondering who I was, to be so concerned with such news. "If Arl Eamon was able to intervene, perhaps it would not have gone this far. I do not care who takes the throne. Only fools fight over who owns a cottage while it burns down around them," the Templar added, and I nodded, biting my lip and thinking of something.

"And King Cailan had no heir?" I asked – there hadn't been any word in Denerim of children in the Royal Family since Cailan and Anora were married; there were rumors that Anora was barren, and I had even heard once that some thought _Cailan_ was the one unable to produce an heir.

"None that we know of," Ser Bryant answered.

"This is…worse than I thought…" I muttered, biting my knuckle and looking at the ground, my brow furrowed slightly. "We should go. Thank you for the information, Ser Bryant," I thanked the Templar, and he nodded, bidding me farewell.

"Travel safely, and may the Maker watch over you," he replied, waving us off.

"Well…this makes things a bit trickier," I remarked, leaning against a wall. We stood in a small alcove, near a rack of candles, and I looked at them absently, the small flames crackling quietly and giving off a faint smell.

"So Loghain's vying for the throne? I suppose that makes sense. I can't imagine that _all_ the nobles will bend their knees to him, though," Alistair said, crossing his arms.

"Yes, but he's also a hero known throughout Ferelden – there are many who are in his debt," I sighed, cocking my head slightly. "I suppose that unless some secret bastard son of King Maric himself waltzes into the Landsmeet to claim the throne, the next logical choice would be someone of the Guerrin line," I added. I had said it as a joke, but Alistair was suddenly staring at me, and his face turned an interesting shade of green. "…you okay?" I asked with concern.

"I…uh…yes," he replied a little too quickly, clearing his throat.

"Oh no, that jerky I bought off those Chasind travelers wasn't made from human fle–"

" _No_ ," Alistair assured me. "No. I'm fine, really," he sighed, seeing that I was still worried. "So how do you know so much about all this?" he added, trying to change the subject. I pursed my lips, letting him know that I had noticed his diversion, but didn't press him for answers if he wasn't willing to share.

"Oh I…spent a bit of time in the Palace District of Denerim now and again, if you catch my meaning," I said airily, waving a hand absently. Alistair cocked his head at me, thinking for a moment before a slow smile spread across his lips.

"You really don't go after the small fish, do you?" he teased, and I laughed.

"Not when there're beautiful whale steaks to be had," I replied glibly. "But walking among the upper-crust _does_ occasionally bear fruit of a different nature. Psht, all these food metaphors," I chuckled, shaking my head – it seemed that Slim's habit was rubbing off on me. "The point is, I know _all sorts_ of nasty gossip about the noble lords and their scandalous affairs," I added with a wink.

"Such as…?" Alistair prodded, and I smirked.

" _Really,_ we're in a _Chantry_ , Alistair," I said with mock offense, and he crossed his arms.

"Alright, alright," he relented, and I smiled, motioning for him to lean in.

"I'll tell you some other time; I can recite some of the stories in _great_ _detail_ , if you're of a mind," I whispered teasingly, and his ears went bright red. "As to the current situation…" I continued, smiling slightly as he cleared his throat, trying to calm down, "perhaps we should hear a bit more news. Do you think Ser Donall would still be around here? He might know more about this mysterious illness that Arl Eamon has," I proposed, and Alistair nodded, his eyes worried again at the mention of the Arl.

"Right. Wait a minute…is that a Redcliffe shield?" Alistair murmured, glancing behind me. I looked over my shoulder, spotting a man in silver and green armor, scanning intently through a book as he stood in a nearby alcove, furrowing his brow in frustration and running a hand through his hair, muttering faintly. On his back, I spotted a shield painted with the crest of Redcliffe; a white tower standing on top of a red hill.

"Who…? I beg your pardon. I did not see you approach," the man apologized, glancing up as the three of us walked over to him – Leliana had been chatting with some of the other Sisters while Alistair and I discussed our plans, and had now rejoined us.

"Ser Donall…? Is that you?" Alistair asked, and the man's eyes widened in recognition.

"Alistair? By the Maker, how are you? I…I was certain you were dead!" Ser Donall exclaimed, clasping Alistair's arm warmly, his eyes relieved to see that he was alright.

"Very nearly, Ser Donall. May I introduce my fellow Grey Warden? We are the last two in Ferelden, as far as I know," Alistair replied, placing a hand on the small of my back as I stepped forward, greeting the man.

"Terrible news, indeed. Pleased to meet you, my lady. Might I know your name?" Ser Donall asked, taking my hand lightly.

"Adeline. A pleasure," I replied, nodding in greeting.

"I trust you are staying discreet? With the bounty placed on your heads?" the man added quietly, and Alistair and I nodded.

"We only learned that there _was_ such a thing today, in fact. We've heard Loghain's accusations, but _he's_ the one who betrayed the king! He's using us as his scapegoat," Alistair replied, and Ser Donall crossed his arms, nodding gravely.

"If Arl Eamon were well, he'd set Loghain straight soon enough," he sighed, glancing absently down at the book he had been reading.

"So you're here looking for the Urn of Sacred Ashes, then?" Alistair asked, and the man nodded.

"I am, indeed. Andraste's ashes are said to cure any illness. But I fear we are chasing a fable; with each day, my hope dims," Ser Donall replied, shaking his head. "I plan on returning to Redcliffe once Ser Henric arrives."

"Um…Ser Donall," I began in a soft voice, and he glanced over at me, seeing the anxious look in my eyes, "your friend, Ser Henric, is dead. I have something of his." I rummaged through the pouch strapped to my belt, taking out the folded note and the locket I had found yesterday.

"What? And you have his locket? And a note? Maker's mercy…" Ser Donall murmured, looking at the items I handed to him. "Thank you for giving me these. I would never have known otherwise," he added, and I nodded gently.

"We drove off the bandits that killed him," I assured him, and Ser Donall clasped my hand in thanks, nodding gratefully.

"Thank you. I wonder how many of us have met similar fates on this mad quest," he breathed, folding away the items and looking sadly back at the alcove, where the candles burned brightly in the dimly-lit building.

"So your quest for the Ashes brought you here?" I asked, a bit curious about this.

"I expected to take advantage of the Chantry's library, in fact, but my skills are better suited to battle than chasing down tales," Ser Donall replied, indicating the book he had been reading.

"We were…hoping to meet Arl Eamon, in fact," I admitted, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Why is that, if I may ask?" Ser Donall prodded, and I glanced around, making sure none of the refugees overheard us.

"We need his help against Teyrn Loghain," I whispered, and Ser Donall nodded knowingly.

"I see. The Arl is a popular man, it's true," he remarked. "Teyrn Loghain, however, is a hero throughout Ferelden. Whatever the Teyrn has done or not done, the Arl remains ill, or worse. That is my primary concern," he added.

"Do you think Loghain is involved with the Arl's illness?" I wondered, and the knight seemed slightly surprised by my question.

"The Arl fell ill before the king died…but what if Loghain planned that, too? Ah, such thoughts do not sit well with me," the knight replied, seeming troubled.

"We should see what's happening in Redcliffe ourselves. I believe that now more than ever," Alistair said, and I nodded.

"Right. Once we're finished in Lothering, we'll head out immediately," I promised, glancing up at Alistair reassuringly.

"If nothing else, I am certain you would be welcomed at Castle Redcliffe. The Arlessa is there, and she could tell you more than I could," Ser Donall explained. At the mention of the Arlessa, Alistair's jaw tightened slightly, and I glanced at him, wondering why he had tensed up.

"I…suppose we should go. Thank you, Ser Donall," I said, bidding the man farewell.

"With Henric gone, I need to return to Redcliffe. Perhaps later I will seek out the scholar his note mentions. But I must go. Thank you again, my lady. You have been most helpful," Ser Donall replied, heading off.

We walked down the main hall of the Chantry, passing by the tangled knots of miserable refugees as we made our way to a small side room. An older woman in Chantry robes was sitting at a desk, writing a letter with a distressed look on her face. Her hair was silver, and tied in a pair of braided buns that rested at the base of her skull, her face worn and weary. When she glanced over to us, however, the weariness disappeared as she saw Leliana.

"Good day, Sister Leliana. I'm surprised to see you're still in Lothering," the old woman greeted, and Leliana smiled at her, bowing respectfully.

"It is good to see you as well, your Reverence," Leliana replied.

"I do not recognize your companion. Greetings. Will you be making a donation to the Chantry? Our need has never been greater," the old woman asked, glancing over towards Alistair and me.

"What tithe is acceptable?" I asked, looking back at the miserable people, my heart tightening a fraction at their pain; this suffering was all too familiar, and I hoped that I could help somehow, if even just a little bit.

"Might I suggest thirty silver?" the old woman said, and I opened my coin purse, looking in. I counted the coins; I still had thirty sovereigns from Vaughan's stash, besides the money we had gotten from the Chanter's board, and what Morrigan had put in my pack.

"I can offer three sovereigns," I replied, handing the woman the coins. Leliana seemed surprised by the amount of money I was carrying, and Alistair raised an eyebrow at me.

"These poor souls will weep at your generosity. Thank you! What can I do for you, then?" the Revered Mother asked as I handed her the coins, and she placed them in the donation box.

"I…want to talk about Sten, the Qunari you imprisoned," I began slowly. The old woman frowned at me, standing and looking sadly at the people behind me.

"It might have been kinder to execute him, but I leave his fate to the Maker. Why does he interest you?" she asked, and I shrugged.

"What did he do?" I countered.

"He butchered an entire farmhold – only one of the youngest hid long enough to survive," the Revered Mother explained, folding her hands into her sleeves, her expression downcast. "The child said his father had found the Qunari gravely wounded and took him in," she sighed. "That kindness was repaid with murder. The Bann's men found the Qunari just…standing amidst the carnage. He did not resist them," she finished, and I looked at her with confusion.

"What would make him do such a thing?" I asked; surely, he couldn't have felt threatened by a few farmers.

"He would not say, though he acknowledged his guilt. Even the seasoned knights who apprehended him were disturbed by the carnage. However docile he appears, do not be fooled; that Qunari is a danger," the Revered Mother warned.

"What if this causes an incident with his people?" I asked – I wasn't sure if it would, but perhaps I could convince her to let him go by arguing this point.

"The Maker demands justice, regardless of his race," the Revered Mother replied firmly. _Justice? Why didn't you just kill him, then? By the Maker, having him starve to death is hardly merciful._

"Is there any way I can convince you to release him?" I tried, and the woman seemed surprised that I would even consider such a thing.

"Then his next victims might count you and me as their murderers," she replied sternly, her tone angry.

"I was thinking you might…release him into my custody. To fight the darkspawn," I argued, and the woman looked at me carefully, doubt in her eyes at my waifish form.

"To defend against the Blight? Perhaps that is a form of atonement. But are you certain you can control him?" she asked, and I shrugged, crossing my arms.

"If you prefer, I could invoke the Right of Conscription," I remarked. _Alright, I don't know if I can do_ _ **that**_ _…but it's worth a shot,_ I thought, keeping my gaze steady.

"I'm not sure that would help, considering your group's current…standing," the Revered Mother said, realizing that we were Grey Wardens, "but you have convinced me. Here, then. Take the key to the Qunari's cage and take him away. I pray this is the right path, for all our sakes." The old woman handed me the key, and I nodded, thanking her. Once we were outside, I motioned for Morrigan and Olan to join us.

"Here, I can handle the Qunari – can you check if any merchants have food left? I'd like to stock up as much as we can before heading out," I asked, passing out some money, and the others nodded, splitting up. Olan remained by my side, looking up at me with big eyes. "Come along, then," I said, patting his shoulder, and he barked, trotting happily next to me as we headed back to the cage.

oOo

Alistair checked for supplies with the merchant who had parked his wagon near the Chantry walls, and Leliana headed back to the tavern. Morrigan, not particularly enjoying the company of either of the two, leaned idly against the wall of an abandoned house, watching the ragged villagers and refugees milling about. _Like lambs before the slaughter,_ she mused, knowing that not everyone would make it away from the village before the darkspawn arrived. While she didn't _wish_ suffering upon these people, their pathetic attempts at an organized evacuation made her scoff; some of them would rather slit each other's throats or make a profit off of other's suffering than work together, it seemed.

The dark-haired woman had to admit, she was surprised at the actions of the Grey Wardens; she assumed that as soon as she had guided Adeline and Alistair out of the Wilds, they would have chased her away. While Alistair didn't approve of her, he rarely initiated their arguments – intentionally, at least. Adeline was more pleasant company…or at least more agreeable than the Templar. Morrigan, of course, would remain with them for as long as they could stand her presence, as Flemeth had ordered her to; she knew her task, and she would see it through to the end, however grudgingly. _And perhaps…seeing the world will not be such an unpleasant experience,_ she thought as she looked towards the sky, completely disregarding the appreciative whistles from a group of mercenaries passing by as they spotted the scantily clad witch.

Alistair bought traveling rations, and had used the bit of leftover coin to buy a thin, steel knife for Adeline – he remembered that she preferred to dual-wield, but had lost her knife fighting the ogre at Ostagar. It was actually a rather nice weapon – red-steel, with intricate leaf patterns decorating the flat of the blade. He had wanted to buy armor for her as well, but, like the day before, the merchant didn't sell any. Alistair had the fleeting recollection that he didn't know her size either, hurriedly chasing away any wandering thoughts as he returned his focus to the merchant. The man had said that a traveling Dwarf merchant had passed by earlier that morning, selling a variety of weapons and armor, and that maybe they could catch up to him on the road.

As Alistair sorted through his things, tucking the rations and knife into his pack, he found that he had wandered into the Chantry's back garden. The monastery where he had grown up also had a garden, but it had been entirely devoted to cultivating vegetables. While the center of the yard was a sprawling square of dirt, lined with furrows for planting, the outer edge of the garden, lining the walls, was dedicated to decorative flower bushes, ornamental trees and crawling vines. Summer flowers were just starting to blossom, and Alistair's heart clenched up at the sight – the darkspawn would come and destroy everything. Even these tiny flowers.

He turned to go, not wanting his thoughts to darken the otherwise calming atmosphere of the place, when his eyes caught sight of a flash of red. He glanced back over his shoulder, wondering if he had imagined it, but there it was – resting within a basket of thorns, sitting among branches like gnarled, bony fingers, was a single rose. It was perfect, red with velvet petals, in full bloom, with dew drops still sitting lightly within the flower's soft embrace.

It was so out of place among the black, twisted bush that Alistair almost laughed out loud – it was just too ironic, he thought, when his mind brought up an image of Adeline. _A thing of beauty, surrounded by so much darkness,_ he mused, walking over to the bush. _I can't just let it sit here. The darkspawn's taint will destroy it,_ he thought, kneeling and taking off a gauntlet – he didn't want to crush the flower with his armor. Alistair gingerly reached into the rosebush, gently plucking the rose – it practically fell off the branch on which it was resting – and brought the flower to his nose, breathing in the scent.

 _Now_ , he thought, tucking the rose safely away in his pack, making sure it wouldn't get crushed, _let's go before the others start wondering where you've been._

oOo

"Shanedan. You cannot seem to get your fill of our conversation," the Qunari said as Olan and I approached.

"Well, I _did_ say I was going to get you out of there," I replied, showing him the key that the Revered Mother had given me.

"I confess, I did not think the priestess would part with it," he remarked, looking at the key.

"She agreed to release you into my custody," I explained.

"Out of one cage and into another. And in what endeavor am I to aid you?" he asked, looking at me with a guarded expression.

"Killing darkspawn. But does it _really_ matter? You're in my custody, now," I countered, watching warily as some refugees eyed me suspiciously, muttering something that sounded like 'reward' and 'not worth the risk'.

"You will find it difficult to move me, if I choose not to follow you," Sten replied. _Ooh, you're a stubborn one, aren't you?_

"If you won't follow me, you'll die in there," I reasoned.

"That was my plan," he replied shortly. I let out a quiet, frustrated groan, walking up to the cage and leaning against it, looking in at him. I waited for a few more refugees to pass out of earshot before I continued.

"I am a Grey Warden," I said softly, and he nodded; I suppose he had guessed as much when I had denied the fact the first time.

"Even in the far north, we have heard the legends of their strength and skill. So far I am not impressed," he remarked. _Everyone's a critic,_ I thought wryly, rolling my eyes.

"I'm not here to impress anyone. I'm here to kill the archdemon," I snorted, unlocking the cage, whether he was going to come with me or not.

"Very well," Sten said. The others came back along the path, watching as Sten stepped out of the cage, glancing back at their approach.

I made a sour expression as Alistair stifled a snicker – I barely stood at the Qunari's ribs, and the giant towered over me, looking quite intimidating next to my petite form. "Oh, you find this funny, eh?" I growled, crossing my arms and throwing the Grey Warden a glare, and he chuckled, biting his lip in amusement at my annoyance. For some reason, whenever I tried to look intimidating around him, it only made Alistair laugh; I had no idea why – despite my height, I could actually make decent threats most times – and it was making me both frustrated and curious.

"I will follow you into battle. In doing so I shall find my atonement," Sten said, and I looked back up at him, offering a hand in welcome.

"Good to have you, Sten," I replied, and he looked at my hand coolly, staring me down. "Right." I said awkwardly, letting my arm drop to my side.

"May we proceed? I am eager to be elsewhere," he urged, and I nodded, understanding; I wouldn't want to be anywhere near that cage either.

"How far is Redcliffe from here?" I asked the others, looking towards the west path.

"A little more than a week, I think, on foot," Leliana replied, and I nodded, biting my lip.

"Then we should go as soon as we've finished these last two requests – the Arl will only get worse the longer we wait," I prompted, and they nodded. "Sten, are you alright? You were in that cage for weeks," I asked, and the Qunari looked down at me oddly.

"You are concerned? No need. I am fit enough to fight," he replied, and I shrugged.

"Well, at least have _something_ ," I insisted, handing him my water-skin and a bit of food that the others had bought. Olan was looking up at the Qunari curiously, cocking his head and giving a soft whine, his tail wagging as Sten glanced at him. Morrigan was watching him with interest in her yellow eyes, as was Leliana, but Alistair seemed a bit wary of him. I looked up at him oddly; the Qunari mercenaries I had seen before all had horns – some of them had been cut off, but you could still see where the base of the horn began. Sten, however, had no trace, and I wondered about his hornlessness.

"Why do you stare at me like that?" Sten asked, catching my look, and I shrugged.

"I was wondering about you. I know very little of your people – I thought the Qunari were supposed to have horns," I remarked, and he looked back at me with steady, violet eyes.

"And I thought Elves were servants in this land. It seems we were both wrong," he replied, and I stared up at him, barely managing to bite back an angry response. _He's_ _ **mocking**_ _me!_ I thought, trying to keep my shoulders relaxed as I fought the urge to scowl.

"Tch, _fine_ then. Tell me about the Qunari, if I'm so mistaken," I retorted, looking up at him in annoyance as we set off to look for Sarha or the tainted bears – I'd trust Alistair to alert me to the bears' presence, since his detection range was farther than mine, so I returned my focus to scanning the hilly fields in search of Sarha…or more likely her corpse.

"No," the Qunari said simply, and my anger fizzled out, replaced by surprise at the blunt response.

"I…alright, I wasn't expecting that," I admitted.

"Get used to disappointment," the Qunari replied. "People are not simple. They cannot be summarized for easy reference in the manner of; 'The Elves are a lithe, pointy-eared people who excel at poverty'," he said.

"Ouch. A little hostile, aren't we?" I grumbled, and Sten looked at me oddly.

"Many humans have said that to me. I do not understand it. If I were indeed hostile, you would be bleeding," he replied.

"Oh, so this is you being calm and helpful?" I retorted as my temper frayed, and I saw the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes as he riled me up.

"Couldn't you tell?" he asked, and I threw my hands in the air in defeat.

"Maker's _breath_ you're worse than the shems!" I muttered. "You know what? Just follow orders and you'll do fine," I added.

"As you wish," the Qunari nodded.

oooo

We found Sarha's body surrounded by skinny, half-starved wolves, which Olan chased away with a snarl as Leliana fired off a volley of arrows. I knelt next to the corpse, sighing and closing the woman's eyes, taking the locket from around her neck and tucking it into my pocket. I asked Morrigan to burn the body, and when she refused, I argued that I wasn't going to leave until we gave her a proper pyre, and that I would be happy to waste time gathering wood if she didn't help.

"Very well," Morrigan almost spat, lighting the corpse on fire and reducing it to ashes in seconds. Leliana murmured a hurried prayer before we moved on – Alistair said that he sensed taint farther up the hill, past a large tree and by the river. As we came closer, I sensed the taint, but it felt different from darkspawn – it was much weaker, and didn't feel quite as… _wrong_ as the darkspawn's taint did.

"They haven't been tainted that long," Alistair explained to me as we watched the bears, who looked normal enough. "We should end it quickly though – creatures infected with the Blight sickness can carry the disease and infect others," he warned, and I nodded. Leliana and Morrigan fired magic bolts and arrows down at the bears, weakening them while Alistair and I charged – they hardly had time to react before we had cut their throats. I had told Sten to stay back until he had a weapon and armor; I didn't doubt that he could fight, but he _had_ been in the cage without food or water for weeks.

We returned to the Chanter's board, gathering our reward before finally departing from Lothering. We walked along the beaten dirt path going north, past the large windmill that sat on a hill nearby, pausing as we heard shouts ahead. Alistair and I ran up a stone ramp as we sensed darkspawn, hands flying to our weapons at the sight before us; two Dwarves near a large wagon were being attacked by a group of darkspawn.

Alistair and I dashed forward, spotting a hurlock Alpha, and we heard Morrigan shouting out an incantation behind us, spikes of ice shooting by and impaling some of the darkspawn. "Olan! Don't swallow the blood!" I ordered, and my mabari barked in assent as he fought by Leliana's side, protecting the lightly armed woman as she fell back and began firing into the crowd of darkspawn. Sten handled himself even without arms and armor – he grabbed a hurlock that was taller than Alistair and cracked its spine over his knee as easily as a dried branch, and I supposed that I had been worrying over the Qunari's health for nothing.

Alistair and I took down the Alpha quickly between the two of us, glancing around for any more darkspawn. "That's the last of them," Alistair breathed, sheathing his sword and buckling his shield onto his back. I looked down at the bodies, muttering darkly. _They're quite bold, attacking right near the village like this,_ I thought, sheathing my saber and searching the bodies; I found some jewelry and a surprising amount of money on them. _Why would the darkspawn be carrying money? They don't use currency…do they?_ I wondered, pocketing the coins. We turned back to look at the Dwarves – Leliana had gone over to see if the two men were alright.

"I'm much obliged, friend," the older of the two Dwarves thanked us, giving Leliana an elegant bow. At my approach, he smiled, shaking my hand warmly as I offered it. "By the Stone, if it isn't Miss Tabris!" he greeted, and I recognized him from when I had first left Denerim.

"Hello Bodahn, Sandal," I grinned at the pair of Dwarves.

"I can't thank you enough for helping me and my boy," Bodahn continued. He had light brown hair, almost copper-toned in the sunlight, with a neat, braided beard hung with small rings and clear, grey-blue eyes. The younger Dwarf, Sandal, had shorter, curly hair, wheat-blonde, with bright blue eyes. The boy waved at me when he saw me, chasing after the horses as they trotted anxiously nearby. "Bodahn Feddic, traveling merchant and entrepreneur at your service, good travelers. This here's my boy, Sandal. Say hello boy," Bodahn introduced himself to the others in our group, and Sandal looked up at them with big eyes.

"Hello," he greeted.

"You know them?" Alistair asked curiously, noticing the familiarity in our tones, and I nodded.

"Yes; I met them when I left Denerim," I explained, and Bodahn nodded.

"Thank you again for saving us, Miss Tabris. You and your friends are formidable folk indeed – perhaps we're going the same way?" Bodahn asked, and I shrugged.

"We're heading up towards Redcliffe," I replied, crossing my arms and looking back at the corpses of the darkspawn, whistling to Olan as he sniffed around. "Do you need help?" I added, glancing at the wagon behind the Dwarves. A pair of large horses pranced about nervously as Sandal walked over, raising his hands and trying to calm them down.

"Oh, no, I wouldn't ask you to do that," Bodahn said. "We just need to clean up this mess and hitch the horses," he explained, and I looked back towards the path ahead.

"Mmm…I might as well clear that path for you – darkspawn blood's still dangerous, even if the beasts are dead," I warned, walking over to the corpses. Alistair and I helped clear a path, dragging the bodies to the sides of the walkway for Morrigan to burn, and the Dwarf thanked us graciously as he loaded boxes into the back of his wagon. Sandal collected the horses; he kept murmuring 'enchantment' to them, and I watched in surprise as his words actually seemed to calm the large animals.

"As payment for helping us, I'd like to offer you and your friends a ride to Redcliffe," Bodahn offered, bowing gratefully, once he had finished hitching the horses.

"Thank you, my friend," I replied, smiling and motioning for the others to join us. Morrigan and Leliana hopped into the cart, and Sten, Alistair, Olan and I walked beside it as we set off.

"Were you really in that cage for twenty days?" Alistair asked Sten as we walked, and the Qunari shrugged.

"It might have been closer to thirty. I stopped counting after a while," he admitted, and Alistair made a face.

"What did you _do?_ I mean…twenty days is a long time to sit in one place and do nothing," the Grey Warden asked, and Sten looked at him seriously.

"On good days, I posed riddles to the passersby, offering them treasures in exchange for correct answers," he replied, and Alistair looked surprised.

"Really?" he asked, looking up at the Qunari.

"No." Sten said flatly.

"Aww. Too bad. That's got serious potential," Alistair remarked, and I smiled, shaking my head at them.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	11. Chapter 11: The Road to Redcliffe

Chapter 11: The Road to Redcliffe

Author note:

I'm sorry these are getting kind of long, but I get a little carried away sometimes when I'm writing.

Disclaimer – I do not own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

In the days that it took to reach Redcliffe, I observed my companions carefully. Alistair seemed slightly less withdrawn after our talks, slowly returning to normal after the shock of the battle at Ostagar. Morrigan was still a bit grumpy at me for letting Leliana come along – the girl was constantly chattering and bubbling with excitement – and I tried not to agitate her too much. Maker knows, I didn't need my traveling companions to _hate_ me if we were going to be fighting together.

I noticed that some nights in camp, when Leliana thought no one was watching, she had such a sad, lonely look in her eyes that it almost broke my heart to look at her, but I wasn't sure what to say to her – I hardly knew a thing about her. Sten was generally quiet; he spoke little, but sometimes I could hear him reciting words in his tongue, meditating as he sat alone, a little ways from the fire in camp.

We had bought clothing, armor, and weapons from Bodahn, who gave us a discount for acting as guards as we traveled. Leliana bought a simple, faded blue dress that made her eyes pop, her wild orange hair shining like red-gold against the material. Over that, when we were in battle, she wore a simple, hardened leather cuirass that fell down to her thighs; her dress fell just past her knees, with a wider skirt so her movements were not limited. She wore dark leggings underneath, with boots up to her thighs, a thin knife strapped to her right leg. She favored throwing knives and the bow, but said she could fight hand-to-hand if the need arose.

Sten wore heavy chain-mail when we fought, with a metal breastplate, bracers, and greaves, the steel glimmering blindingly when the sun hit it. He looked at the selection of blades and axes Bodahn had available with a hint of distaste, finally choosing a long, two-handed blade. I asked him what was wrong, but the Qunari ignored my pestering, instead sitting down and examining the blade with a practiced eye. I noticed that he carried an empty sheath on his back, but made no comment – I didn't want to bother him too much with my questions. Outside of battle, he wore a simple shirt and trousers, with thick, steel-toed boots up to his knees.

Alistair and I bought hooded cloaks, putting them on when we encountered soldiers along the road to cover our hair, and Alistair reluctantly agreed to paint over the sigil on his shield so it wouldn't be recognized. I also bought myself a simple cotton shirt and thick, black leggings, over which I wore a sturdy, hardened leather vest.

"Finally, _pants,_ " I exclaimed when I had seen the leggings, and Alistair had raised an eyebrow at me, wondering why I was getting so excited. "You have _no_ idea how hard it is to fight in a dress," I remarked, and Alistair shrugged.

"You didn't seem to have much trouble to _me_ ," he replied, and I laughed.

"I'm talking more about the…uh… _modesty_ aspect," I admitted, and it took him a moment to realize what I meant. He blushed scarlet as he remembered what had happened – back when we were fighting the bandits in Lothering, I had tripped when one of the bandits had gotten the skirt of my dress caught in his armor, tearing a long hole in the skirt – showing off a good portion of my thigh – and nearly ripping the dress off altogether. The only thing that had saved me from an extremely humiliating and pathetic death was that I had fallen forward just enough to catch the bandit leader's shield-bash on my shoulder, after which I had been thrown clear. After that, I swore that I would buy pants the first chance I got.

oooo

In the evenings, after long days of travel, I would sit by the fire, listening to Leliana play her lute as she sang songs softly in Orlesian. I sometimes sat in front of my tent, leaning against Olan and writing in a journal I kept. Secretly, I was also sketching, drawing pictures of my companions; it calmed me when I was stressed – I had done the same on my way from Orzammar to Ostagar, sketching Duncan when I thought he wasn't watching me.

I also watched Alistair practicing his sword and shield forms. I had noticed that he had a very…unusual way of fighting; I had seen guardsmen, and even other Templars fight with swords and shields, but the techniques were fairly basic – hold up the shield until you see an opening, and then attack. The way Alistair fought, though…I had never seen something like that; he used his shield as a weapon as much as he used his sword – it was as if they were synchronized, used both to attack and defend at the same time.

I was suddenly excited – I wanted to spar with him again. Back in Ostagar, when we had fought, I had gotten the sense that he was trying to manipulate my temper, which I had been all too happy to play along with. It backfired on him once I started taking things seriously, but I had still lost due to a rather spectacular display of reflexes – I had no idea that he could move so quickly until he had literally swept my feet out from under me with his shield.

Now that we knew each other a little better – and I knew not to underestimate him – I wanted to see how we held up against one another. I stood from where I was sitting, putting down my sketchbook and grabbing my blade, trotting over to Alistair and waiting for him to notice me so I could ask to spar; his eyes were shut, but his movements were slow and calculated as he practiced the different forms.

I grinned, thinking of something, and I slowly drew my saber, trying to make as little noise as possible. I watched him, waiting to catch the pattern, and I flowed into the movements, twirling my blade around his, barely missing it with each pass as I followed his motions. My bare feet were silent on the grass as we moved – I wondered if he would notice that I was even there. Sometimes, I even came so close that I _swore_ he should have noticed me by now, but then again, he _was_ concentrating very hard on his movements.

After a few minutes, I stepped quietly back as he continued with his eyes closed, smiling slightly and turning to head back to the fire. I nearly jumped out of my skin as I felt something poke me in the center of the back, glancing over my shoulder to see Alistair standing there, pressing his sword lightly against my shirt. "Never turn your back on an opponent while he's still standing," he teased, and I stared at him with wide eyes.

"You…noticed I was there?" I asked with surprise. "I thought I was being so quiet," I added, and Alistair smiled.

"It wasn't easy…and it wasn't sound. I smelled you," he remarked.

"You…smell…are you saying I _smell?_ " I asked incredulously, and he held up a hand.

"Ah, not like that!" he grinned at my affronted look. "I'm surprised you hadn't noticed it – you smell like cinnamon," Alistair explained. I stared at him for a moment in confusion before narrowing my eyes slightly with suspicion.

"You're…having me on, aren't you?" I accused, and he shook his head.

"You're probably just used to it. Go ask Leliana if you don't believe me," Alistair replied, and I snorted, shaking my head.

"Alright, I believe you. It's just… _weird_ that I wouldn't notice," I murmured. "You think it's my hair or something?" I asked curiously, and he shrugged.

"So…did you want to spar?" Alistair offered, and I smiled.

"That's why I came over in the first place. Before I got distracted," I admitted.

"Here, wait one moment – let me get something," Alistair said, and I nodded, watching him go. A few moments later he was back, and I raised an eyebrow when I saw him carrying a long, red-steel knife and scabbard.

"Decided to switch to dual-wielding?" I asked curiously, and Alistair shook his head.

"I remembered that you lost your knife at Ostagar," he explained, handing the knife to me, and I stared at him. "I thought you'd need a replacement."

For a few moments I stood there, not knowing what to say. I cleared my throat, nodding slightly and feeling my ears go red at the look of amusement in Alistair's eyes. "Um…thank you, Alistair. That was very thoughtful of you," I thanked him sincerely, once I had regained my voice, and he smiled gently at me.

"Think nothing of it," he replied, waiting for me to buckle the knife's sheath onto my belt.

We took up positions a few paces apart, and I grinned. "Don't go easy on me – I promise I won't take you lightly this time," I winked as I made a show of taking my saber in my left hand, and Alistair laughed.

"Alright. But I'll try not to ruin that pretty face of yours," he teased.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, my good ser," I replied.

We circled around one another slowly, sizing up our opponent – Alistair was tall, with broad shoulders and arms corded with muscle. _This is going to be tough, even if I know his fighting style. He's bigger than me, and fast – faster than I'd expect for someone of that size. He's used to wearing medium armor, too, so he's lighter on his feet than most Templars. He's also got more stamina than me…_ I thought, my eyes moving carefully over Alistair's body, looking for an opening. We weren't wearing armor – just our regular clothes – so he'd be even _quicker_ now, without the weight of his splint-mail holding him back. _I need to get the shield away from him._ _ **That's**_ _what gave me so much trouble the last time._

I lifted my feet slowly off the ground, and Alistair and I both stopped, returning to our original positions; it seemed he had gotten a pretty good feel of me, as I had of him, and now we were waiting for someone to make the first move. We both knew it would be me, even without him goading me into it. Our eyes met, and I smirked, leaping right at him – exactly what he had been waiting for. As he raised his sword to strike, I darted to his left, trying to get past his shield, and I started as I glanced up at him, seeing him grinning at me. _Oh sod, I fell for it!_ I thought with surprise as he lashed out with his shield, catching me in the shoulder.

 _Wow! So his reaction back at Ostagar_ _ **wasn't**_ _just luck – he's got very quick reflexes,_ I thought as I landed lightly in a roll, using my momentum to get quickly to my feet, leaping at him again. We exchanged a flurry of blows as I tried edging away from his shield – I'd need to get past the sword first, and then get close enough to unbuckle the shield from his arm, or move in close enough for a strike at his head and throat. I leapt back as he started making wide slashes with his sword to ward me off – I knew he would stop before any of them actually _hit_ me, but I _also_ knew that they were strong enough to give me a _very_ deep wound. Probably fatal; I had seen him behead darkspawn with similar attacks.

I wasn't going easy on him, as promised – I tried to get behind him a few times, as I had in our first spar, but he was ready for me, keeping his eyes fixed on me and ignoring everything else around us. I narrowed my eyes as he managed to predict every movement that I made. _Am I really that easy to read?_ I asked, slightly disturbed – I had always tried to change my combat tactics a little so that they _couldn't_ be followed. _Or…does he know me that well already?_ I thought. That would be a little easier to accept…and maybe I was hoping that was the case – at least then, we were on the same side.

I charged again, and as Alistair prepared for me to change directions at the last minute, expecting me to get behind him, I kept going straight at him, jumping and plowing into him, knocking him off balance. He let out a startled gasp as we fell to the ground, but he managed to grab my shoulders so that I lay pinned against his chest, arms stuck between our bodies so that I couldn't move. We lay there, gasping for breath, and I heard Alistair let out a laugh as he looked at me.

"Adeline, you can't just _charge_ me like that," he said, tapping the back of my neck lightly with the flat of his sword. "I think this round's mine; what's that now, two for two?"

"Oh really?" I remarked, and I felt him shift slightly. "Do you know where my knife is?" I added sweetly, and he sat up, looking at me oddly.

"What do you…oh." He looked down – I was holding my knife at his pelvis, just at the right angle to unman him, had the attack connected.

"I think that the pain of that," I said, tapping his stomach with the pommel of my blade, "would have stopped you from chopping my head off." He crossed his arms, nodding as he thought about it. He grinned, grabbing my shoulders and pinning me against him, ruffling my hair with his free hand as I complained. I dropped my knife and push back against his chest so he would let me go, but he only pulled me in tighter.

"You sneaky little cat! And I thought you were going to go for my shield the whole time," Alistair grinned, and I laughed as I struggled to get away, finally managing to disentangle myself from him. I stood, brushing myself off and trying to flatten down my hair, which now looked like a bird's nest.

"That was the original plan. I'm good at improvising, though," I winked, helping him to his feet, and we returned to the campfire. I raised an eyebrow at the coy look Leliana was giving us, mouthing 'what?', and she returning an innocent 'oh nothing'. I bade the two goodnight, retreating to my tent and finding my brush, sitting down and brushing out my hair until it settled down.

Really, I probably should have been more annoyed with him for it, but I sort of liked Alistair's teasing, and how relaxed we were with one another. And it wasn't as if _I_ wasn't teasing him back; I found that with a few choice words, I could make his face turn a surprising range of colors, all within a few seconds of each other. It probably wasn't good for his health, though, so I preferred to make him blush – he really was quite cute when he was flustered.

oooo

I woke up one morning from a terrible nightmare, trembling and breaking into a cold sweat; the archdemon had been singing in his strange, euphoric voice, when he had suddenly noticed me, letting out a horrible roar and spitting gouts of purple flame at me. I had jolted awake, lying frozen in terror with my heart pounding in my ears; I had almost started crying, I was so afraid. Olan lay curled up next to me, letting out a soft whine as he saw my frightened look, and I took a few slow, calming breaths, stroking the dog's back as he nuzzled me reassuringly.

"Bad dreams, huh?" Alistair asked, seeing my haunted look when I emerged from my tent, and I shrugged weakly, my movements a bit stiff as I walked over to him.

"I'm…I'm good," I replied quietly, my voice wavering slightly as I sat down next to him. Alistair handed me a bit of bread for breakfast, and I murmured a quiet 'thank you'.

"It's just that you were crying out in your sleep. Loud. And not in a good, this-is-private way, either," he explained, and I looked down with embarrassment.

"Um…sorry…" I mumbled awkwardly, chewing on the slightly stale bread. "I hope I didn't wake everyone up…"

"No, we were up already. And it's…normal, actually. The bad dreams, I mean," he said, and I glanced back at him in puzzlement. "You see, part of being a Grey Warden is being able to hear the darkspawn. That's what your dream was; hearing them. The archdemon, it…'talks' to the horde, and we feel it just as they do. That's why we know this is really a Blight," he explained.

"Are these dreams going to happen a lot?" I asked warily, and he gave me a sympathetic look.

"It takes a bit, but eventually you can block the dreams out. Some of the older Grey Wardens say they can understand the archdemon a bit, but I sure can't," he replied. "Anyhow, when I heard you thrashing around, I thought I should tell you. It was scary at first for me, too," he added.

"Thank you Alistair. I appreciate it," I said, and he patted my back lightly.

"That's what I'm here for – to deliver unpleasant news and witty one-liners," he replied with a charming smile, and I chuckled quietly, cheered a bit by his words.

"So what changes about you after the Joining?" I asked curiously, and Alistair smirked, seeing that my fear from the dream had melted away.

"You mean other than becoming a Grey Warden?" he said, and I rolled my eyes.

"I mean what changes _physically_ ," I elaborated.

"Hmm. You know, I asked Duncan this, too, and all I got was, 'You'll see'," Alistair replied, and I scowled at him playfully, pointing at him with my piece of bread.

"Just try that line on me," I challenged, and he grinned.

"I can think of much better lines for you," he replied with a smirk, and I leaned in a bit.

"Really? Why don't you try them?" I teased, and his smirk deepened.

"I might, just you wait," he winked. Olan, who had been sitting nearby, suddenly inserted himself between us with a low, jealous growl, giving Alistair a threatening glare, and I laughed, ruffling the dog's ears.

" _Olan_ ," I chuckled, and the dog grumbled something in complaint as he nuzzled my shoulder. Alistair rolled his eyes at the hound as the mabari shot him another glare.

"Well, it's not that Duncan _wants_ to keep it a secret. It's just that the Grey Wardens don't discuss it much; I gather it's not a pleasant topic," Alistair continued, once Olan had trotted off. "The first change I noticed was an increase in appetite. I used to get up in the middle of the night and raid the castle larder; I thought I was starving. I'd slurp down every dinner like it was my last, my face all covered in gravy. When I'd look up, the other Grey Wardens would stare…then laugh themselves to tears," he recalled with a smile, and I pursed my lips. _Ah,_ I realized, _so_ _ **that's**_ _why he has such a big appetite. And now that I think of it, the Wardens I met at Orzammar always had second helpings at dinner as well,_ I remembered.

"I haven't felt anything like that," I remarked, taking another bite of bread, and he grinned crookedly at me, raising an eyebrow.

"Really?" he asked. "Because I was watching you _wolf_ down food the other day and I thought, 'Ooh, it's a good thing she gets a lot of exercise'," he added. _Ah, right,_ I thought – I had gotten my appetite back after Lothering, but I thought my frantic eating habit was just my body trying to make up for the lost meals.

"What can I say? I'm a growing girl," I joked, and he laughed.

"I'll say! Uh…I didn't mean it like that. Heh. Don't hit me! I bruise easily!" he said, holding up his hands as I punched his arm lightly. "Oh…and _then_ there were the nightmares. Duncan said it was part of how we sense the darkspawn. We tap into their…well, I don't know what you'd call it…their 'group mind'," Alistair continued. "And when we _sleep_ , it's even worse. You learn to block it out after a while, but at first it's hard. It's supposed to be worse for those who Join during a Blight. How is it for you?" he asked, and I bit my lip.

"Well, you _did_ say I was screaming, right?" I asked, and he nodded sympathetically.

"Some people never have much trouble, but that's rare. Others have trouble sleeping their entire life. They're just more sensitive, I suppose. Everyone ends up the same, though; once you reach a certain age, the _real_ nightmares come. That's how a Grey Warden knows his time has come," he said, and I looked at him oddly, not liking the sound of that.

"His time has come? That sounds… _ominous_ ," I remarked.

"Oh, that's right. We never had time to tell you that part, did we?" Alistair recalled.

"Tell me what?" I asked, almost dreading the answer.

"Well, in addition to all the other _wonderful_ things about being a Grey Warden, you don't need to worry about dying from old age. You've got thirty years to live. Give or take," Alistair explained, his voice falsely cheerful. His tone became more serious as he continued. "The taint…it's a death sentence. Ultimately your body won't be able to take it. When the time comes, most Grey Wardens go to Orzammar and die in battle rather than…waiting. It's tradition," he said.

"How cheery," I replied, my tone sarcastic.

"And you _wondered_ why we kept the Joining a secret from the new recruits! There you have it," he finished, and I shrugged.

"I…suppose I understand the necessity of it," I murmured, folding my hands on my lap.

"You know, Duncan…he started having the nightmares again. He told me that – in private," Alistair remarked, his voice sad. "He said it wouldn't be long before he'd go to Orzammar himself. I guess he got what he wanted. I just wish it had been something worthy of him," he sighed.

"He will be remembered, Alistair. As will the others," I promised, and he nodded sadly.

"I know. Ending the Blight…should make this all worthwhile, right?"

oooo

That evening, once we had set up camp, I looked sadly at the sketch I had done of the Grey Warden; Duncan looked so calm…so noble. _He_ would know what to do in this situation; I felt lost, and a little lonely. I knew Alistair was trying to help, and I was glad to listen to his opinions and advice whenever he had an idea…but he had been trained all his life to follow.

I was sure he had the qualities of a leader in him, somewhere, but they had never been given a chance to develop, so there was only so much he could do on his own. I'd need to set time aside to help him build up his confidence; if anything ever happened to me, he'd have to be ready to fight the Blight on his own. _I hope it never comes to that,_ I thought, looking over our group. I wasn't exactly leader material myself, but I could put on a mask of confidence and leadership, even if I was really trembling in my boots at the gravity of our situation.

My priorities were to end the Blight, of course, but also to do that with as little death on our side as possible. That included keeping everyone in our little group alive…which I was beginning to worry about. Leliana and Alistair were pleasant enough together, but Morrigan seemed to be going out of her way to antagonize _everyone_. Well, except Sten, but he just _ignored_ everyone, instead. Leliana took Morrigan's harsh words in stride – nothing seemed to phase the cheerful girl – but Alistair still wasn't happy with the prospect of having her along, and their near-constant bickering was beginning to wear on my patience.

 _We really are a bunch of circus freaks. The Maker must have a bizarre sense of humor if_ _ **we're**_ _the ones who are supposed to save Ferelden…and all of Thedas,_ I thought as I looked down at the sketch of Duncan. _Hah. I guess I got my wish,_ I added sadly, letting out a small sigh and rubbing my forehead tiredly. Leliana must have seen the look on my face, because she came over and sat nearby. I quickly closed my sketchbook, and she glanced at it curiously, but refrained from asking.

"Are you alright?" she asked, and I shrugged.

"Oh, yes. I mean, about as 'alright' as one _could_ be, what with the darkspawn horde coming crashing down on our heads," I replied sarcastically. "Sorry. I shouldn't be so rough," I apologized, leaning against Olan as he whined, his ears flapping at the sound of my voice.

"Did you always live in an Alienage? Was it very terrible?" Leliana asked suddenly, and I raised an eyebrow at her question.

"I…yes. I was born in Denerim. I had my family, but…things weren't always pleasant there," I replied, absently scratching behind Olan's ear.

"I have never been to the Denerim Alienage, but I hear that life is hard and…there is so much squalor…" she murmured, looking at me with a hint of pity. I felt anger suddenly flare up in my chest at her look. _I don't need some shem looking down at me like that,_ I thought reflexively, trying to keep my expression level. "In Orlais most Elven servants live in the homes of their masters, often in great wealth and luxury," she continued.

"And I bet some are treated cruelly, like dogs," I retorted. Olan cocked his head at my words, and I scratched the back of his neck.

"Yes, but some humans are treated cruelly too. It is not just Elves," Leliana replied carefully, noticing the hint of anger in my tone. "A well-trained Elven servant is highly valued in Orlais. They are nimble and dexterous and many people find them pleasing to look at," she explained.

I snorted derisively at her words, glaring at the fire as my mood darkened. "Like an exotic _pet,_ " I scoffed. "Should I offer myself to some Orlesian noble, then? Parade myself around like livestock?" I asked bitterly, my jaw tight, and her eyes widened as she realized what she had said.

"No, I did not mean it that way!" she said quickly, holding her hands up. "My words were clumsily chosen. I did not mean to offend. I – ugh…I am sorry," she murmured apologetically, her eyes guilty as she looked back at me. I sighed, my anger fading at her earnest apology.

"You may not be cruel, but you still see us differently," I remarked in a gentler tone, standing and brushing a bit of grass from my pants.

"I…I did not realize that. It is so strange, how long-held beliefs just seem natural and…right. Like there is no other way to feel," she replied, looking up at me, still apologetic. "Thank you. You have given me a lot to think about," she said. I nodded vaguely, saying it was alright as I walked over to where Morrigan was sitting. She had set up her own small fire a short ways from camp, and was sorting potion ingredients into piles.

"So is Flemeth really what she seems to be?" I asked, after I sat in silence for a while, and Morrigan glanced over, smiling slightly at my question, and not seeming to mind my pestering as much as the other day. I was the only one that she wasn't openly hostile towards, it seemed, though the reason why still evaded me.

"So full of questions," she chuckled softly, shaking her head slightly. "Well that depends, does it not? What does she _seem_ to be?" she added, and I bit my lip.

"A nutty old bat," I replied softly, and Morrigan laughed.

"Sometimes I do wonder the very same thing," she replied, her eyes filled with amusement. "Tell me; how much do you know of the tale? The one that the Chasind still tell of my mother, to frighten them into obedience?" she asked, and I shrugged.

"Only snatches of it, told by travelers," I replied.

"No doubt such a tale has mutated much over time and telling," Morrigan replied. "I can relay what Flemeth once told me, herself, and _you_ can decide whether or not 'tis the truth. If you desire," she offered, and I nodded.

"Sounds interesting," I replied, and Morrigan cleared her throat, beginning.

"As the tale is sung by the bards, there was a time when Flemeth was young and beautiful. A fair lass in a land of barbarian men, the desire of any who saw her," she recalled the tale, and I couldn't help but interrupt.

"Wait. Just how long ago was this?" I asked, and the corner of her mouth curled in a smirk as she continued.

" _Many_ centuries, before this land was even named Ferelden," she continued. "The tales say that Flemeth fell in love with Osen, the bard, and fled the castle of her husband, the dread Lord Conobar, and that he swore vengeance for her infidelity. In truth, my mother claims that 'twas Osen who was her husband, and Conobar the jealous lord who looked on from afar," she explained. "Lord Conobar approached young Osen and offered him wealth and power in exchange for his lovely wife. And Osen agreed."

"He…sold his wife?" I asked, surprised, and Morrigan shrugged.

"The life of a bard is a poor one, and love fades in the wake of hunger. 'Twas Flemeth who suggested the arrangement," she explained, and I nodded, listening as she continued the story. "All would have been well had Lord Conobar kept his end of the bargain. But he was a foul man who bargained with coin he did not possess," her tone became ominous, and I glanced out towards the woods. "Osen was led off to a field and slain, left for dead. Flemeth spoke to the spirits and learned of the deed, and swore revenge."

"She spoke to spirits? Or demons?" I asked.

"Spirits first, and 'twas they who slew Conobar. Flemeth did not turn to the demon until…much later," Morrigan replied. "Lord Conobar's allies chased Flemeth, you see. Chased her to the Wilds and there she hid. There she found the demon and he made her strong. The legends all speak of the great hero Cormac, he who defeated Flemeth and her great army when she invaded the lowlands centuries later. All lies," Morrigan said, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Which? She never invaded? Or he never defeated her?" I asked.

"The truth of the matter is that there was _never_ an invasion. As Flemeth tells it, the Chasind never raised an army under her banner and she never fought with any warrior named Cormac," Morrigan replied. "Cormac led a brutal civil war against his own people, and later claimed it was to vanquish evil that had taken root amongst the lords. Thus was he hailed a hero. Flemeth was only attached to the legend much later. Perhaps 'twas due to the great war with the Chasind that eventually came, but Mother claims not to know how it began," she finished.

"How is it that Flemeth has survived for so long? Was it because of the demon?" I asked, fascinated with the idea; could a demon truly prolong a mortal's lifespan? Were they truly _that_ powerful?

"The demon within her has transformed her into…something else. An abomination, perhaps some would say? I know not," Morrigan admitted. "I only know my mother is clever. And she is part of the Wilds as it is part of her… But she is no immortal. She bleeds. A blade in her heart would kill her like any other, were it lucky enough to find her," she murmured, lost in thought.

"That was quite a tale. Thank you," I smiled, and Morrigan shrugged.

"Flemeth tells it with far more embellishment than I. But you are welcome," she replied. "Dare I ask of your own mother? Few are abominations of legend, 'tis true, but I find myself curious nevertheless," she added, and I let out a soft breath.

"She…died when I was young. My martial training came from her, as does my temper, or so I'm told," I murmured, glancing over at the dark-haired woman, who was watching me quietly.

"You have my sympathies, for what it is worth," she said, surprising me.

"Thank you, Morrigan," I replied.

oOo

Sten observed the group of bas with his serious, violet eyes, moving slowly over every detail. The swamp witch – the bas saarebas; he did not trust her. She was a mage, a beast taking on the shape of man. This one truly _could_ become a beast – he had watched her change her form at will, becoming a cat, a bird, and a wolf, that he had seen. She had eyes like a dragon, cold and predatory, that were deadly as fire when she was angry. The saarebas reminded him very much of the kasaanda…a flower from his homeland that caught and devoured insects.

The red-haired human bas, Leliana; a bard. She was always cheerful and merry, and while it could wear on one's nerves, Sten didn't disapprove of her music. Although he sometimes didn't understand the expressions used in the common tongue's songs, he could see that it took skill to play the lute, sing, and dance all at once – it took focus and practice, and Sten could also see the connection between this and the way that she fought. She preferred ranged weapons, but when she fought in close quarters, her movements were quick and practiced, her footwork perfect – she moved as if in dance, flowing with the motion of battle to where she could do the most damage. _She is not what she seems,_ the Qunari concluded.

The Grey Wardens…the human man, Alistair, and the Elf woman, Adeline. _Are they truly Grey Wardens?_ Sten had his doubts at times; both were young, and callow as newly-hatched birds. Alistair seemed the more disciplined of the two – he had been trained extensively, Sten could see – but he had no backbone, despite his skills. He also made jokes and inane remarks that seemed to amuse their leader, although Sten thought it was pointless nonsense and a waste of time. He supposed it could be what the humans called 'courting' – and although Sten wasn't exactly sure what that entailed, he assumed it was some elaborate pre-mating ritual that the humans had established. The human always seemed to be near the Elf, and acted like an imbecile around her, much to the woman's amusement. _Strange creatures indeed,_ the Qunari thought.

The Elf, Adeline…she puzzled him more than any of the others. He didn't know what to make of women fighting to begin with – why would they want to be men? – but perhaps it was a quality of the Grey Wardens he had not heard of. She, like Leliana, had a dark past – Sten had a sense of these things; she carried herself like one who has killed, killed many, and enjoyed it. _But not only darkspawn,_ Sten understood. She was dangerous in battle, but wild and unthinking – like a hurricane, destroying everything in her path. He could sense hatred in her, deep regret and bitterness…but it was reflected inward. It was almost unsettling, Sten thought, how much this woman despised herself.

And yet she wore a perfect mask of civility, and even the same mindless cheer that so naturally floated about Alistair. Sten knew that she wasn't entirely consumed by hatred – beneath the shadows in her eyes, he saw brightness, drawn out by the more cheerful of her traveling companions, and inquisitiveness. Adeline was very curious; the Elf reminded him of a small cat – he had even heard Alistair refer to her as 'kitten' once or twice – and he watched her as she slowly made her rounds about the camp, speaking to each of her companions and checking to see if they needed anything.

"Hello Sten," Adeline greeted the Qunari softly, and he nodded slightly. "Is there anything you need?" she asked, and Sten shook his head. She bade him goodnight, returning to her tent, and Sten looked out towards the woods, lost in thought as he contemplated the strange group of bas.

oOo

The next morning, as we walked along the path next to Bodahn's wagon, I could hear Alistair and Leliana chatting behind me. "So…let me get this straight. You were a cloistered sister?" Alistair asked, and Leliana smiled, nodding and folding her hands behind her as they walked.

"You must have been a brother before you became a Templar, no?" Leliana replied, and Alistair shrugged.

"I never actually _became_ a Templar. I was recruited into the Grey Wardens before I took my final vows," he explained.

"Do you ever regret leaving the Chantry?" the girl asked, and Alistair made a face.

"No, never. Do you?" he replied.

"Yes. You may not believe it, but I found peace there. The kind of peace I've never known," she sighed, a bit nostalgic.

"It used to get so quiet at the monastery that I would start screaming until one of the brothers came running. I would tell them that I was just checking. You never know, right?" Alistair grinned, and Leliana looked at him with surprise.

"I…no, I never did anything like that. I enjoyed the quiet," she said.

"Suit yourself. The look on their face was always priceless," Alistair laughed at the memory.

I glanced ahead as the wagon rumbled to a stop, furrowing my brow; standing on the path, blocking our way, was a large group of refugees. They were armed with branches and farming equipment, and I watched them warily. "Is there a problem, gentlemen?" Bodahn asked, a bit wary as well – perhaps they were trying to rob his caravan, I thought.

"We don't have no issue with you, Dwarf. It's the Elf and that other fellow we want," a man said, stepping forward and pointing at Alistair and me.

"Um…what exactly do you need with us?" I asked cautiously; I had a bad feeling about this, sensing the answer before he gave it.

"You're the Grey Wardens. The ones that killed the king," the farmer said, and I scowled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I denied, and the man crossed his arms.

"I don't know if you really killed the king, Warden, and Maker forgive me, I don't care. But that reward on your head will fill a lot of hungry bellies. Attack!" the man yelled, and the mob of refugees charged forward with a roar.

"Sod!" I gasped, leaping back as a man stabbed at me with a pitchfork. "Try not to kill them!" I called to the others, who nodded.

I grabbed the pitchfork as the man stabbed at me again, yanking it out of his hands and throwing him back, stabbing it into his shirt and pinning the cloth to the ground. I turned around, leaping into the fray barehanded. Refugees screamed and fled as we fought, dragging their unconscious companions along with them until there was no one left.

"The lengths people will go to…" Alistair sighed, crossing his arms.

"They are desperate; it makes them bold," Leliana remarked.

"Foolhardy is perhaps a more appropriate description," Morrigan replied.

"I hope this won't be too much of an issue; Redcliffe's still a long way, and I would prefer _not_ to be constantly battling the people we're trying to _save_ ," I grumbled, tossing a discarded pitchfork to the side of the road as Bodahn urged the horses on. They gave soft, agitated snorts, still on edge from the fight, and they glanced around warily as we moved.

"So Leliana…this… _vision_ of yours. Could you tell me about it?" I asked the red-haired girl as we walked side-by-side. She glanced over at me, nervously twirling a lock of hair around her index finger. "I won't make fun of you or anything, I promise," I assured her, and she nodded, seeing the honesty in my eyes.

"I knew this would come up sooner or later," she sighed, beginning. "I don't know how to explain, but I had a dream… In it there was an impenetrable darkness…it was so dense, so real," she described, her eyes distant as she remembered the dream. "And there was a noise, a terrible, ungodly noise… I stood on a peak and watched as the darkness consumed everything…and when the storm swallowed the last of the sun's light, I fell, and the darkness drew me in…" she murmured, her shoulders tensing slightly as she thought of the darkness.

"Maybe you dreamed of the Blight?" I suggested, and Leliana glanced back at me, nodding.

"I suppose I did. That was what the darkness was, no?" she replied, glancing up as some birds flew out of a tree as we passed by. "When I woke, I went to the Chantry's gardens, as I always do. But that day, the rosebush in the corner had flowered," she said, and I looked up at her inquisitively. "Everyone _knew_ that bush was dead. It was grey and twisted and gnarled – the ugliest thing you ever saw…but there it was; a single, beautiful rose. It was as though the Maker stretched out His hand to say; 'Even in the midst of this darkness, there is hope and beauty. Have faith'." Leliana had a distant look in her eyes as she described it, and I waited for her to glance back before asking a question.

"Uh. Did you…hear voices?" I asked awkwardly, and she laughed, a high, melodic sound.

"No, not voices; it's not so simple. He spoke directly to my soul, in a language no human tongue can express. There are so many good things in the Maker's world – how can I sit by while the Blight devours…everything?" Leliana asked me, and I shrugged.

"I suppose I couldn't sit by either," I admitted, knitting my fingers together and resting them on the back of my head as we walked, relaxed.

"That is why you are a Grey Warden, is it not?" Leliana replied, and I smiled.

"Hm, true. I'm glad you're here with us, Leliana, and I'm sorry that I was being difficult back in Lothering," I apologized, and she nodded.

"You were right to be wary, what with the bounty on your and Alistair's heads," she replied. We were quiet for a while as we walked, and I watched Olan prancing about curiously by the side of the road, sniffing intently at the bushes and startling birds.

"Say…what would someone like you be doing in Lothering's Chantry?" I asked, glancing back at Leliana. She arched an eyebrow inquisitively, not sure what I was asking.

"What is meant by 'someone like me'?" she countered, and I shrugged, indicating the bow on her back, and the knives on her belt.

"They don't teach you how to fight in the cloister," I elaborated.

"Did you think I was always a cloistered sister? The Chantry provides succor and safe harbor to all who seek it. I chose to stay and become affirmed," she explained, and I looked at her curiously, not knowing what she meant.

"Affirmed?" I echoed, and she nodded.

"We affirm our belief in the Maker, in Andraste and the Chant, but other than that, there are no vows taken," she replied.

"What did you do before that?" I prodded.

"I was a traveling minstrel, in Orlais," she replied. "Tales and songs were my life; I performed, and they rewarded me with applause and coin. And my skill in battle…well, you pick up different skills when you travel, yes? Yes, of course. But…um…let's move on," Leliana said awkwardly, suddenly guarded. _Huh. I wonder why that's a touchy topic. Did something happen to her in Orlais?_ I wondered, nodding and not pursuing the matter.

"What was life like in the Chantry cloister?" I asked, trying to change the subject, and she smiled at my curiosity, relaxing slightly.

"Quiet. It was a life suited for contemplation. In the cloister, away from the fuss and the flurry of the cities, I found peace; in that stillness, I could hear the Maker," she described, closing her eyes as we walked, remembering the quietness of the cloister. "But it was not perfect," she added, her brow furrowing slightly. "Some of my Chantry fellows were condescending. That is the nature of religious folk, I suppose," she shrugged.

"Yes, they tend to be self-righteous," I replied, a half-grin on my face.

"When I talked about my beliefs – that the Maker reveals Himself in the beauty of His world – they…treated me with disdain," Leliana said, letting out a small sigh. "They want to believe that He is gone, so that when He turns His gaze on them, it means they are special – chosen. He cannot possibly have love for all – the sick and weary, the beggars and the fools," she murmured, shaking her head.

"Don't forget the mages, and the Elves," I added sarcastically. "But…I prefer your ideas to the ideas of the Chantry," I said, and she smiled faintly at my words.

"Thank you. Maybe I am wrong, but it is the Maker's place to decide if I am worthy, not men. Not the Chantry," she said, gazing up at the sky with bright, blue eyes.

oooo

The following evening, I sat by the fire, sketching Sten. The Qunari was sitting in silence on a large stone nearby, looking out into the trees as he kept watch. Well technically it was _Morrigan's_ watch, but while she patrolled the edge of camp, Sten was content to sit and…meditate, I guess. I carefully drew his face, sketching out his strong, regal features, and those dark, serious eyes.

"Oh, that's really good," Alistair said, coming up behind me. I jumped and let out a startled sound, fumbling with my pencil – it flew out of my hand and landed on the grass – and I shut my sketchbook quickly, my face reddening; I had been so intent in my drawing that I hadn't noticed his approach. Alistair smirked as he sat down next to me, handing me back the pencil and seeing that I was suddenly flustered. "I didn't know you could draw," he remarked, and I scowled.

"Tell the whole camp, why don't you?" I grumbled, nervously fingering the book.

"Why are you embarrassed?" Alistair chuckled, and I shrugged.

"It's…a guilty pleasure. And a frivolous one at that," I murmured. "I like to draw pictures of people around me. It's…calming," I added, and he nodded gently, understanding.

"You've been a bit tense lately – and I don't mean about Lothering," he remarked, and I cocked my head.

"You noticed?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Yes. Do you need to talk?" he tried, and I smiled.

"Not much to talk about; it's just stress over the whole Blight situation," I shrugged. I noticed him eyeing my sketchbook, and I handed it to him. "Here. Satisfy your curiosity," I said, and he looked at me with surprise.

"Are you sure? Isn't this private?" Alistair asked.

"Yes, it is," I replied, and he smiled faintly, opening the book. "This is my father, Cyrion," I said, pointing to his image, "and my cousins Shianni and Soris," I added as he flipped the page – I had drawn them from memory when I was in Orzammar, and feeling a bit homesick.

"You don't have any siblings?" Alistair asked softly, glancing at me as I moved a bit closer, looking at the pages in the firelight.

"No. My mother…died when I was still little – supposedly she wasn't supposed to be able to _have_ children at all," I replied, giving a small shrug.

"Well…I'm glad she had you," Alistair said, and I glanced up at him, heat going through me at the warmth in his eyes. I smiled, glancing back down at the sketchbook as Alistair flipped the pages, finding sketches of Neria and Daveth.

"Ah, this one's Cailan. I spotted him gambling with some of the guards in camp," I chuckled, indicating the sketch of the king as Alistair turned the page. I looked at it in silence for a while, glancing up at Alistair and noticing something odd. The shape of his jaw…the strong chin and straight nose…they were exactly the same as Cailan's. _That's…really strange,_ I thought with a frown, glancing back at the sketch. Alistair looked a bit uncomfortable, noticing my look of confusion, and he quickly turned the page, finding the sketch of Duncan. I left Alistair to leaf through the sketchbook and walked over towards Sten, still puzzled by how similar Alistair and Cailan looked.

I moved quietly, my bare feet making soft swishing sounds on the grass as I went over to Sten, standing nearby and glancing curiously at the silent Qunari. He gave no indication that he had heard me approach, but I could sense that he knew I was there. After a while, he looked at me, his eyes moving over me carefully, his brow furrowed slightly, as if he were confused about something.

"I don't understand. You look like a woman," he remarked, and my eyes widened in surprise at the sudden statement.

"What's not to understand about that?" I wondered, not sure where this was going.

"You are a Grey Warden. So it follows that you can't be a woman," he stated.

"That…doesn't make any sense, Sten," I replied.

"So you understand my confusion, then," he said.

"Well, _I'm_ confused now, anyway," I admitted with a shrug; I really wasn't sure what he was getting at with this.

"Women are priests, artisans, shopkeepers, or farmers. They don't fight," Sten explained, and I raised an eyebrow.

"That's not a very comprehensive list," I remarked, but the Qunari ignored my sarcastic tone.

"The laborers, soldiers, and ashkaari are men. There is nothing else left," he said.

"None of this makes any sense, Sten," I replied.

"Exactly," he nodded.

"Well now we're just going around in circles," I observed with a small smile, making a circular motion with a finger.

"I don't know what to make of you. Perhaps this is a quality of Grey Wardens I had not heard about," he said, seeming troubled. "A person is born: Qunari, or human, or Elven, or Dwarf; he doesn't choose that. The size of his hands, whether he is clever or foolish, the land he comes from, the color of his hair – these are beyond his control. We do not choose, we simply are," the Qunari said, and I shrugged, glancing back towards the fire.

"But a person can choose what to _do_ ," I argued.

"Can they?" he asked. "We'll see." He returned his attention to the woods for a few minutes, and I stood in silence, observing him.

I knew what the Chantry had said, and what the farmers had said around Lothering, but I wondered what the whole story was; _why_ had he killed the farmers? "What were you doing in that cage?" I asked quietly, and Sten turned slightly, his violet eyes pale in the firelight at our backs. He knew what I meant – the question within the question – but I could sense that he was going to be obstinate about this, even as the words left his lips.

"Sitting, as you observed," he replied simply.

"Cute. You're the silent type, I see," I observed, walking over and standing in front of him. Even when the Qunari was sitting, he was still taller than me, and I tried not to quail under his steady, almost predatory eyes.

"Your grasp of the obvious is remarkable," he said, and I crossed my arms, feeling my jaw tighten. I let out a small sigh, calming down – he had quite the talent for riling me up, no matter how hard I tried to keep my mask together. It helped that he probably knew it was there in the first place – I could tell as much, the way he was always watching me.

"You don't like me much, do you?" I murmured, and the Qunari let out a quiet breath at my words.

"Warden, if I truly disliked you, I would leave," he replied. "That I am still here, you may interpret however you choose," he added, and I gave a small snort.

"You're impossible!" I grinned, shaking my head at him.

"I know," Sten replied, and I thought I saw the tiniest hint of amusement in his eyes. "Parshaara. Was there anything else?" he added, and I shrugged.

"I had a question," I stated; this was the reason I had come over in the first place.

"I am hardly surprised," Sten replied, and I rolled my eyes.

"Why did you come to Ferelden?" I was trying to be more roundabout in my questions now – perhaps _this_ could get me an answer about why he had been caged.

"To answer a question," he said, and I raised an eyebrow.

"You came all this way for that?" I asked, almost incredulous, and Sten looked at me levelly.

"For someone so dismissive of questions, you ask a great many," he observed coolly, and I sighed.

"Alright, I get the point. Sorry," I apologized. Sten was silent for a few moments, looking out into the dark woods, his eyes moving along the tree-line carefully.

"The arishok asked, 'What is the Blight?' By his curiosity, I am now here," he said. _Arishok? I've never heard that word before. Is it a title of the Qunari?_

"What's an arishok?" I asked.

"The one who commands the antaam – the body of the Qunari," Sten explained, and I nodded. _Alright. He's like their leader, I suppose._

"So did you find the answer to his question?" I prodded.

"A portion of it," Sten replied. He saw my questioning look and let out a quiet breath. "Were you not at Ostagar when the army was overwhelmed? That is your answer," he added. _Oh. Well, I suppose the Qunari would be just as concerned about the Blight as anyone else. It_ _ **would**_ _reach Seheron and Par Vollen eventually, if it weren't stopped._

"Huh…so…don't you have to report back, then?" I wondered.

"Yes," Sten answered.

"When are you going to do that?" _And if he was given such a task, why send him alone? He was captured – if he died, the arishok would never have an answer to his question._

"Never. I cannot go home," Sten said, and my eyes widened with surprise. _What? Why?_ The look in his eyes told me he didn't want to talk about it, so I decided not to ask.

"Well, you can stay with us," I offered. Sten looked at me quietly for a moment, his normally stern expression softening a fraction at my words.

"…Thank you," he replied quietly.

I walked back to where Alistair was sitting; he had finished looking through my sketchbook, and was watching me quietly. "Something on your mind?" I asked, and Alistair shrugged, handing back my book. I placed it on my lap and glanced at him as I sat down beside him.

"Back at Ostagar, after the Joining…you were singing something. Was it in Elvish?" he asked quietly, and I nodded, slightly embarrassed that he had heard me.

"Yes. I learned it a long time ago, from my mother. It's a…prayer, meant to honor the dead," I explained.

"I thought as much," Alistair replied, looking like he wanted to ask me something else.

"I don't know how the Wardens honor their dead, if there's a ceremony or something…" I began softly, glancing at him, "but…I'd like to say the prayer for them," I murmured.

"I'm sure they would like that," Alistair agreed, watching as I stood. He followed me as I walked to the edge of camp, wanting to have a bit of privacy, and I closed my eyes, facing the woods and clearing my throat. I sang the prayer softly, my voice rising over the trees and echoing through the dark woodlands. Alistair clasped his hands before him, closing his eyes and bowing his head slightly as he let the song wash over him, his lips moving in silent prayer.

oooo

The week went by slowly as we made our way to Redcliffe, and we fell into a routine. In the mornings, we would pack up camp and eat breakfast as we walked. We would take a short break for lunch, waiting while the horses stopped for water, and then continue traveling until evening. Speaking to Bodahn, I learned that he used to live in Orzammar, and wasn't a surface-born Dwarf, like I had initially thought.

He had quite the fascinating story; he had been born Merchant caste, and ran a successful business buying goods from casteless Dwarves, who scavenged relics from the Deep Roads. One day, a noblewoman came into his shop and caused an uproar, claiming that he had stolen a pair of custom-made bracers from her brother, who had disappeared while on an expedition to the Deep Roads. Bodahn had been arrested, and the first chance he saw, he bribed a guard and fled Orzammar. He had found Sandal in the Deep Roads, and had treated the boy as his own son ever since.

"We left Orzammar," Sandal said, and Bodahn nodded, patting the boy's shoulder.

"That's right m'boy, and maybe one day we'll see it again," Bodahn replied.

"Wow. You're quite fortunate to have gotten away," I remarked, and the Dwarf nodded.

"I thank the Stone every day," he nodded, chuckling slightly.

I slowed my pace until I was walking in step with Alistair, who was glancing at the scenery absently. I wondered about my companion; I still knew so little about him, and I wanted to get to know him better. He noticed my curious look, glancing down at me. "Yeees?" he asked with a grin, and I smiled at his cheerful tone; he seemed in a good mood today.

"So you said the Chantry raised you?" I asked, and Alistair shrugged.

"Did I say that? I meant that _dogs_ raised me. Giant, slobbering dogs from the Anderfels – a whole _pack_ of them, in fact," he replied. _Ah. Stalling. I wonder what's wrong; he seemed fine a moment ago,_ I thought, deciding to humor him until he was ready.

"Really? That must have been tough for them," I said, playing along.

"Well, they were _flying_ dogs, you see. Surprisingly strict parents, too, and devout Andrastians, to boot," he recalled in a matter-of-fact tone.

"That _is_ what they say about Anders," I replied, glancing ahead as Olan was bothering Sten, wagging his tail and trying to get the Qunari to throw a stick for him.

" _That_ , and that they make a great deal of cheese," he added. "Funny, but the dogs never mentioned cheese. As a matter of fact, if you said cheese around them, they'd start growling. Isn't that odd?" Alistair asked. "Or maybe I dreamt all that? Strange what kinds of dreams you have, sleeping on the cold, hard ground," he shrugged. "Have you been having strange dreams?" he wondered, and I smirked.

"Only the ones where we're making mad love in my tent," I replied, and his face turned a violent shade of scarlet. He nearly tripped over a stone in the road, stumbling forward a few steps before he caught himself, clearing his throat and answering.

"I…uh…seem to have completely lost my chain of thought…" he stammered out nervously, and I grinned at his flustered expression as he glared at me, knowing I had done that on purpose.

"Devout, flying dogs," I reminded him, and he sighed, calming down enough to continue.

"Let's see. How do I explain this? I'm a bastard," Alistair began, "and before you make any smart comments, I mean the _fatherless_ kind," he added, giving me a pointed look.

"Wouldn't dream of it, my dear," I replied, and he rolled his eyes, still blushing faintly.

"My mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe Castle who died when I was very young. Arl Eamon wasn't my father, but he took me in anyhow and put a roof over my head," he continued, but I interrupted him.

"Wait, wait. Arl Eamon? The _Arl_ took you in?" I asked incredulously, and Alistair shrugged.

"I wasn't raised as the Arl's _son_ , if you're picturing _that_. I was a stable boy; I slept in hay out with the horses and dogs, not on silk sheets," he replied. "He was good to me, though, and he didn't have to be. I respect the man and I don't blame him any more for sending me off to the Chantry once I was old enough."

"The Arl wasn't your father? So you know who is?" I prodded, and Alistair shrugged, suddenly a bit uncomfortable.

"I…know who I was _told_ was my father. _He_ died even before my mother did, anyhow. It isn't important," Alistair replied quickly, and I nodded, not wanting to pester him about it. "Arl Eamon eventually married a young woman from Orlais, which caused all sorts of problems between him and the king because it was so soon after the war. But he loved her," he continued, looking ahead absently, the wagon rumbling next to us and drowning out Leliana and Bodahn's voices as they spoke.

"Anyhow, the new Arlessa resented the rumors which pegged _me_ as his bastard. They weren't true, but of course they existed. The Arl didn't care, but she did – so off I was packed to the nearest monastery at age ten. Just as well; the Arlessa made sure the castle wasn't a home to me by that point. She despised me," Alistair said, his voice low.

"What an awful thing to do to a child," I murmured, and he glanced down at me, shrugging.

"Maybe. She felt threatened by my presence, I can see that now. I can't say I blame her – she wondered if the rumors were true herself, I bet," he sighed, absently running a hand through his hair and looking up at the sky. "I remember I…had an amulet with Andraste's holy symbol on it – the only thing I had of my mother's. I was so furious at being sent away I tore it off and threw it at the wall, and it shattered," Alistair recalled, his voice filled with regret. "Stupid, stupid thing to do. The Arl came by the monastery a few times to see how I was, but I was stubborn. I hated it there and blamed him for everything…and eventually he just stopped coming," he finished with a small sigh, looking down at the path sadly.

"You were young," I tried, but he shook his head.

"And raised by dogs. Or I may as well have been, the way I acted," Alistair replied. "But maybe all young bastards act like that, I don't know. All I know is that the Arl is a good man and well-loved by the people. He also was King Cailan's uncle, so he has a personal motivation to see Loghain pay for what he did. Anyway…that's really all there is to the story," he said, and I smiled gently at him.

"So…" I said after a while, and he glanced back at me, "why have you remained a Templar, if you hate the Chantry?"

"Have you _seen_ the uniform? It's not only stylish, but well-made. I'm a sucker for good tailoring," Alistair replied with a grin as he cheered up, and I raised an eyebrow.

"I thought Templars wore heavy plate, mostly," I replied, remembering the Templars I had seen back in Lothering, and near the cathedral in the Denerim Market District.

"That's just in public. In _private_ we have these yellow and purple tunics, right? _Much_ more comfortable, and you don't break the beds when you jump on them during a pillow fight," he joked, and I let out an amused breath.

"You had lots of these pillow fights, I take it?" I asked with a smile, and he winked.

"On confession day we could go all night. Being a Templar isn't all about chasing men in skirts and hiding behind priests, you know," he chuckled. "You don't _really_ want to know about my being a Templar, do you? It's really quite boring," he added, and I looked up at him.

"You don't have to tell me, then. I was just curious. Sorry if I'm being nosy," I apologized, and he shrugged.

"I…suppose there's no harm in it, then. Sorry if I was being perverse, I'm just…not used to anyone asking me these things," he admitted, relenting. "The truth of the matter is that I _did_ hate going to the monastery. The initiates from poor families thought I put on airs, while the noble ones called me a bastard and ignored me. I felt like Arl Eamon had cast me off, unwanted, and I was determined to be bitter. But I took some solace in the training itself, I guess. I was actually quite good at it," he recalled, and I listened intently.

"What did you enjoy about the training?" I asked curiously.

"The education, mostly, but also the discipline. You need to have a disciplined mind in order to use the abilities we have; it was difficult, but rewarding," he explained. "I never really felt at home anywhere, though, until I joined the Grey Wardens. And Duncan felt my Templar abilities might be useful for when we encountered darkspawn magic, so I kept it up," he said. "What about you? Do you have anywhere you consider home?" Alistair asked, and I shrugged.

"Well…I grew up in Denerim, but I doubt I'd be welcomed back there after what happened. I guess my home is with the Grey Wardens now. With you," I replied, glancing up at him.

"Really? I…I guess I like the sound of that," Alistair said, his eyes softening as he looked at me. "We won't _always_ be traveling like this, you know. Once the war is over, once the Blight is… Well, a time will come when we'll have to think about having a _real_ home again. Though that seems like a far ways off…and I suppose the Grey Wardens are gone for good, either way," he sighed, a hint of sadness in his tone. I stepped a bit closer, taking his hand in mine and trying to comfort him.

"They can be rebuilt," I assured him.

"I suppose you're right. We can create new Grey Wardens, but we'll never get back those we lost. I wonder if it would ever feel the same?" he murmured, twining his fingers with mine as we walked, and I glanced up at him.

"Maybe not…but they'll always be remembered," I promised. Alistair seemed heartened by my words, and smiled faintly at me, the sadness leaving his eyes.

"Indeed, they will," he replied, strength returning to his voice.

oOo

"So, what did you mean before, when you said you wouldn't be welcomed in Denerim?" Alistair asked after a while, and Adeline glanced up at him, giving a small shrug.

"Well, you know, Daveth and I got up to a lot of trouble there," she replied, and he frowned. _Alright. Something big must have happened for her to try and brush it off like this,_ he concluded.

"I doubt it's as simple as that – the way you speak, you have quite the colorful past," Alistair replied, and Adeline smiled faintly.

"Oh?" she asked curiously. "So tell me, what do _you_ think I did," she added, and he grinned.

"I don't know. Did you…break into the Royal Palace at some point?" he guessed, and she snorted.

"I doubt any of the fences I know would risk trying to sell something from the palace, even if I _could_ get in," she replied. "Try again," she added.

"Can't you give me a hint?" Alistair asked, and the Elf smiled slightly.

"Sure. It involves nobles," she replied, and he scowled.

"Oh, no, really?" he retorted, and she grinned.

"Specifically the Arl of Denerim. Or his _son_ , rather," she explained. Alistair cocked his head, puzzled now. He suddenly thought back to Daveth's words in the Wilds – he had asked Adeline if she had killed someone. "I killed him." The words hung in the air for a few moments, and Alistair looked at her doubtfully. "I'm not joking, Alistair. I killed the Arl of Denerim's son, and most of the guards in his estate," Adeline added, and his eyes widened, seeing that she was completely serious.

"What? Why?" he asked, and she sighed, seeming to brace herself for something.

"My cousin, Shianni, a few girls from the Alienage and I were…um…kidnapped…on my other cousin, Soris', wedding day," Adeline murmured, folding her hands behind her back as they walked. Alistair's shoulders had stiffened, and his jaw was clenched tight; he could sense where the story was going, and he was fighting back the sudden wave of anger that washed through him. "The Arl's son, Vaughan, and a few of his friends got drunk that day, and came down to the Alienage to kick around the Elves," Adeline continued. "They grabbed a few of the bridesmaids and Soris' bride, and when I tried to stop them, they knocked me out and brought me along too. I woke up in a storage room in the Arl's estate. Some guards came in and dragged the girls to Vaughan's room – they tried to tie me up because I threatened them earlier."

"Tried to?" Alistair asked, and she nodded, a sad smile on her lips.

"Yes. Before they could do anything, Soris came around the corner and threw me a sword. You've seen how I fight; any guards that stood in my way were killed. But…when we got to Vaughan's room…Shianni…" Adeline's voice hitched a bit, and she swallowed, remembering something unpleasant, no doubt.

"There was nothing you could have done," Alistair murmured, seeing the pained look in her eyes.

"It doesn't make it okay," she sighed. "Shianni was…hurt by Vaughan. I killed him, and anyone who stood in my way. By the time we tried to leave, though, the garrison was on their way there. I…stayed behind to block the way while the others escaped. The guards arrested me and threw me in the dungeon," Adeline continued, smiling slightly. "The guard on watch fell asleep at his post, and I managed to pick the lock on the cell door and escape the city."

"So that's when you went to Orzammar, I take it?" Alistair concluded, and Adeline nodded.

"I spent some time there, and when Duncan found me again, he told me that everyone back in the Alienage thought the guards had killed me. The garrison said I had been executed to save face, I suppose," she shrugged.

"Right, you said you met Duncan in Denerim before that, yes?" Alistair recalled.

"Yes. He knew my mother, and had wanted to meet me. When he saw what had happened – when he heard that I had been captured by the guards – he went to the estate's dungeon. He told me that he intended to invoke the Right of Conscription, so that I'd be in his custody," she explained. "I suppose I ended up a Grey Warden either way; takes a monster to kill monsters, hmm?" Adeline finished telling her tale, and Alistair stared at her.

"Mon…Adeline, you're not a monster," he said sternly, and she scoffed, not meeting his eyes.

"Alistair, when I killed those guards…I _liked_ it. I _liked_ hearing them scream as they died. It made me feel… _powerful_ …" she shuddered at the memory, her eyes holding mixed excitement and disgust. "What kind of _lunatic_ revels in death like that?" she whispered, and Alistair looked at her sadly; he wasn't sure what to say. He could see guilt and hurt in her eyes, but beneath it was the blaze of fire he only saw when she was fighting darkspawn; bloodlust. He gingerly reached out an arm, lightly placing it on her shoulder, and Adeline jumped slightly in surprise – she stared up at him with watery eyes, as if she were on the brink of tears.

"You've been through a lot, Adeline," he said gently, and the Elf shrugged weakly, managing to blink away the moisture from her eyes as she took a deep breath.

Alistair saw it, then; he had never noticed before, but now that it happened before him, it all made sense – she had created a mask for herself to block out her emotions. That was how she seemed to be holding up so well despite everything that had happened so far – he had never actually seen her cry, he recalled; this must have been why. He worried for her – burying her emotions like that might cause more harm than good in the long run. He would have to find a way to help her, although he wasn't sure how yet; he needed to help her release her pent-up anger and grief before it consumed her.

"We _all_ have, Alistair; my past may be troubled, but I know I'm not the only one. Wallowing in self-pity will get us nowhere – we need to move forward, and stop the Blight no matter what. I couldn't protect the ones I love back in Denerim, but I'll try my hardest to protect them from now on," Adeline said firmly, and Alistair nodded slightly, smiling at the determination in her voice and admiring her strength.

"Just know that you're not alone in this, Adeline," Alistair added, and she smiled back up at him, her grip tightening on his fingers as he took her hand.

"Of course; I've got you by my side," Adeline said. She looked up at him with those bright, green eyes, and Alistair felt his heartbeat speed up.

"Always," he promised, looking at her warmly.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	12. Chapter 12: A Village Under Siege

Chapter 12: A Village Under Siege

Disclaimer – I do not own Dragon Age or any of its characters

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[Justinian – summer]

As we headed up the steep path to Redcliffe, I spotted a windmill in the distance, and Leliana let out a soft exclamation. "Ooh, a windmill. I took a ride on the sails of a windmill once. It did not end well," she chuckled, and I smiled at the cheerful girl. Alistair seemed a bit nervous as the village came into view, and I glanced at him as he lightly tapped my arm.

"Look, can we…talk for a moment? I need to tell you something I, ah, should probably have told you earlier," he began, and I stopped. The others saw us talking and slowed down, stopping the cart by an old farmhouse on the top of the hill. They gave us some privacy, looking out over the village and lake as Alistair and I spoke.

"What's on your mind?" I asked gently as we walked to a more secluded spot, seeing how nervous he was.

"I told you the other day how Arl Eamon raised me, right? That my mother was a serving girl at the castle and he took me in?" Alistair asked, and I nodded, resting my back lightly against a tall pine tree that stood nearby. He took a deep breath, composing himself before continuing. "The reason he did that was because…well, because my _father_ was King Maric. Which made Cailan my…half-brother, I suppose," he explained.

I felt my eyes widen at his words, and I opened my mouth to say something, not really knowing how to react. "I'm sure you probably would have figured that out eventually, looking at that sketch of Cailan. And you…uh…really startled me when you talked about it in Lothering. I…wanted to tell you before things got awkward," he added hurriedly. I thought back to my words about Maric having a secret bastard son in Lothering, and my drawing of Cailan, realizing that _this_ was the reason the two looked so similar; they were _brothers._

Alistair looked uncomfortable, fidgeting nervously at my silence, and I quickly tamped down the questions that flew to my mind, trying to diffuse his tension. "So…you're not just a bastard, but a _royal_ bastard?" I asked when I found my voice, smirking at him, and Alistair laughed, appreciating what I was trying to do.

"Ha! Yes, I guess it does at that. I should use that line more often," he grinned, tension fading from his shoulders as he relaxed. "I _would_ have told you, but…it never really _meant_ anything to me," he continued. "I was inconvenient, a possible threat to Cailan's rule, and so they kept me secret. I've never talked about it to anyone; everyone who knew either resented me for it or they coddled me… Even _Duncan_ kept me out of the fighting because of it," Alistair explained. "I didn't want you to know, as long as possible. I'm sorry," he apologized, and I shook my head.

"No harm done, Alistair," I replied, smiling reassuringly at him. He let out a sigh of relief, glad that I wasn't mad or anything; I was more surprised, really, but I understood the necessity of his secrecy. I wondered why he decided to tell me at all, though.

"Good. I'm glad. It's not like I got special treatment for it, anyhow. At any rate, that's it. That's what I had to tell you. I thought you should know about it," he said.

"Why tell me at all, then? Why would _I_ need to know?" I asked curiously, and he shrugged.

"Because it will probably come up. I didn't want to walk into Redcliffe without you knowing the truth. That would be just…awkward," he replied. "I have no illusions about my status, however; it's always been made very clear that I'm a commoner, and now a Grey Warden, and in no way in line for the throne. And that's _fine_ by me," he added. "If there's an heir to be found, it's Arl Eamon himself. He's not of royal blood, but he is Cailan's uncle…and more importantly, very popular with the people. Though…if he's really as sick as we've heard… No, I don't want to think about that. I really don't," Alistair murmured.

"You're not hiding anything else?" I asked teasingly, and he smiled, crossing his arms.

"Besides my unholy love of fine cheeses and a minor obsession with my hair, no. That's it. Just the prince thing," he replied.

"You're a prince. Somehow I find that…thrilling," I admitted, and his eyes widened slightly at my coy tone.

"Oh! Did I just find the one damn decent thing about my birthright? I think I did," he replied, and I smiled, pushing myself off the tree and walking back with him as we rejoined the others. "So there you have it. Now can we move on, and I'll just pretend you still think I'm some…nobody who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens," Alistair said, and I glanced up at him.

"That's not really what you think, is it?" I asked, and he smiled faintly.

"Well…no. What I really think is that I was lucky enough to survive with you," he replied, and I felt warmth go through me at his words.

"I…hope I'm worthy of that…" I replied softly, feeling my ears redden as he smiled at me.

We parted ways with Bodahn and Sandal, heading down the path towards a bridge as they left, Sandal grinning and saying 'enchantment' as his father told him where they were going next. We glanced up ahead as we heard a shout; a thin, haggard-looking man in ragged armor was hailing us down from the bridge, his eyes hollow and fearful as we approached.

"I…I thought I saw travelers coming down the road, though I scarcely believed it," he gasped, staring at us as if he wasn't sure if we were really there. "Have you come to help us?" he asked frantically, and I looked at him carefully.

"What do you mean? Is there a problem?" Alistair asked, and the man looked at him with disbelief.

"So you…don't know? Has _nobody_ out there heard?" he cried.

"We've heard Arl Eamon is sick, if that's what you mean," I tried, and he looked back towards the hills. Castle Redcliffe rose high above the lake, sitting by the edge of the red-hued cliffs, which had given the town its name.

"He could be _dead_ , for all we know! Nobody's heard from the castle in days," the man explained. "We're under attack. Monsters come out of the castle every night and attack us until dawn. Everyone's been fighting…and dying," he continued, his voice distraught.

"Apparently everyone seems to agree that a Blight is the perfect time to start killing each other. Marvelous, really," Morrigan snorted, crossing her arms.

"We've no army to defend us, no Arl and no king to send us help. So many are dead, and those left are terrified they're next," the man gasped.

"Hold on. What is this evil that's attacking you?" Alistair asked, narrowing his eyes as he looked up towards the castle, squinting in the bright sunlight that flashed off Lake Calenhad far below.

"I…I don't rightly know; I'm sorry. Nobody does," the man replied. "I should take you to Bann Teagan. He's all that's holding us together. He'll want to see you," he added.

"Bann Teagan? Arl Eamon's brother? He's here?" Alistair said, and the man nodded.

"Yes. It's not far, if you'll come with me," he offered, and I held up a hand, telling the others to wait.

"Hold up. I don't know what's going on here, but I don't want us all blindly walking down there," I said, and the others looked at me as I faced them.

"What do you suggest?" Sten asked, and I crossed my arms. The man had walked off a little ways, seeing that we wanted to talk in private, and was waiting on the other side of the bridge.

"I'll head down there and assess the situation. If something happens – if I'm recognized as a Grey Warden – I can get out of there faster than if we all go," I proposed.

"Adeline, if you think I'm going to let you–" Alistair began, and I held up a finger.

"Listen. I spent a good portion of my teenage years running from armed guards with Daveth. A few ragged villagers will never catch me. I promise," I said, and Alistair sighed, relenting. "Here, I'll even bring Olan with me," I added, and the dog gave a happy bark.

"What shall we do in the meantime?" Morrigan asked, and I crossed my arms.

"Ser!" I called, and the man looked over, "Is that house abandoned?" I asked, pointing to the old farmhouse, and he nodded. "Alright. You can stay inside, and I'll come back later, once I'm sure of the situation," I explained, and they nodded.

"Be careful down there Adeline," Alistair said, and I nodded, crossing the bridge with Olan and following the man down a steep path. The village sprawled out along the lakeside, ramshackle buildings scattered about with wooden walkways near the water and the docks. Some houses were built along the cliff side, clinging to the steep slopes and lining the narrow path that wound its way down to the main village.

People watched me warily as I passed, wondering who this strange, armed Elf was, no doubt. They all looked ragged and weary, with haunted, miserable expressions; these people had lost all hope that they could stand against whatever was attacking them. Around the Chantry, which stood at the head of the town commons, was a group of poorly-armed men, half-heartedly practicing with their weapons. A man with dark hair and a thick moustache watched me suspiciously as I went by, his expression guarded and his eyes strained.

oOo

Alistair watched Adeline head down the hill with the sentry, his shoulders tense with worry. "This is a bad idea…" he muttered, crossing his arms as he looked over the village. Redcliffe. He had mixed feelings about the place; he had been a curious child, and had explored the village and the docks when he was small. The people there had been kind to him, and he remembered them fondly. And Bann Teagan had always liked him, and had played with him when the man had lived there before he became Bann of Rainesfere, and wasn't tending to his duties.

There had been rumors about his connection to the Arl, of course – that he was his bastard son – but the Arl and none of the servants took these rumors seriously; Alistair looked nothing like Eamon. The only one who _did_ seem to take the rumors seriously was the Arlessa, Lady Isolde – he didn't know for sure that she knew he was Maric's son, so perhaps she wondered if the rumors _were_ true. It had taken Alistair years of wondering, thinking about why Arl Eamon, who he had thought of as a father, almost, would send him off to the monastery simply because his wife insisted. Once he hit upon the reason, he slowly began to accept what happened – he wasn't okay with it, but he understood.

Arlessa Isolde was afraid that even though he was an orphan, and a bastard, _he_ could potentially be named Eamon's heir – Fereldans were still bitter about the Orlesian Occupation, and might actually prefer a nobleman's bastard to a half-Orlesian as their next Arl. His presence threatened her, and the future of her child, and so she convinced Eamon to send him away. Alistair had realized this as a teenager – long after Eamon had stopped visiting – and it made him bitter and reclusive; he couldn't forgive what had been done to him…but he _did_ regret how he had spoken to the Arl.

 _And now I might never have a chance to…no. Don't think about that,_ Alistair thought, looking up towards Redcliffe Castle with worry. _We'll find a way to fix this. I just hope we're not too late…_ He narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked at the castle; there was definitely something…odd about it. He could sense something – it wasn't like the darkspawn, though. It was more like…like a crackling, dark energy. _Like Flemeth,_ Alistair thought, remembering the old witch. He had sensed the magic in her, though it was very subtle when she wasn't using spells, as if she had found a way to hide it – this was not so subtle; it was as if whatever was in the castle was sending off malevolent waves of energy on purpose. _Almost like a taunt,_ Alistair thought, crossing his arms and looking thoughtful.

Leliana had seen the slightly troubled look on his face as he glanced down towards Redcliffe once more, and she came over, smiling reassuringly. "Don't worry, she'll be fine," the girl said, and Alistair sighed.

"I…I know, but I can't help it," he replied, looking into Leliana's bright blue eyes. There was a hint of mischief in them, and she smiled coyly at him.

"So you and Adeline…" she began, and he raised an eyebrow at her tone.

"…what about us?" he asked, suddenly not liking where this was going. Leliana always seemed to get an impish look on her face whenever he and Adeline were together, and he had come to dread the way her eyes flashed.

"How long have you been together?" she asked innocently, and Alistair felt his heart leap into his throat at the words.

"Ah, no we're not…" he began awkwardly, glancing down at the village.

"Oh, don't be like that – you don't have to hide it," Leliana teased.

"No, I'm serious. We're not…like that," Alistair replied, calming down a bit. "We've known each other for all of four weeks," he added, and she smirked.

"That long?" she asked sweetly, genuinely surprised to learn that the two weren't an item. They certainly _acted_ quite friendly, she thought, the way they were always together. "You like her. I can tell," she grinned at Alistair's sudden flustered look.

"I…alright. Yes," he admitted quietly, "but…I'm not sure if it's real, or if it's a result of our situation. She's the only other Grey Warden who survived Ostagar that I know of. What if I'm…fooling myself, and this is just a way with dealing with my grief? What if I'm just clinging to her? Imagining that I have…feelings for her so that I don't feel alone?" Alistair asked, suddenly worried.

Leliana crossed her arms, looking at him for a long time and shrugging. "Maybe you _are_ fooling yourself. But then maybe you are not," she replied. "And you speak as if these feelings are not reciprocated," she added, and Alistair's eyes widened slightly. "I see how Adeline looks at you. And she doesn't seem so tense when she is near you," Leliana remarked.

"You really think so? That…that she likes me? As…more than a friend?" Alistair asked, and Leliana giggled at his anxiousness.

"I know so," the girl replied with a wink, "so stop _worrying_ so much." Alistair let out a small, relieved breath, and she chuckled at him. "Oh Alistair, you really shouldn't work yourself up over this; everything will work out," Leliana promised, and he pursed his lips.

"I…suppose you're right. But I just…feel like a bumbling fool when I talk to her," he admitted, and Leliana cocked her head, frowning slightly. She had noticed his self-depreciating nature, and supposed it came with the Templar training.

"I know you are no fool, Alistair – you are far from it. And Adeline knows this as well. All you need is a bit of confidence," she argued, and Alistair crossed his arms.

"Right. Confidence. Now what does that mean again?" he joked, and she giggled.

"See? Wit and charm – I can see why she's fallen for you," the bard said, and Alistair smiled, relaxing at her words. She glanced over to the main path as she heard a happy bark, and saw Olan trotting towards them with a note in his mouth. He walked up to Alistair and dropped the note at his feet, sitting down and giving a short, stately bark.

"Oh? A message, maybe?" Alistair murmured, kneeling and picking up the note. He read it quickly and let out an amused snort, shaking his head helplessly.

"What does it say?" Leliana asked, and Alistair handed it to her.

"She's left me to convince the others to help defend the village from 'walking corpses' or something; apparently they come from the castle and attack anyone who tries to leave Redcliffe," he said with a groan.

"Good luck with that," Leliana teased, and Alistair crossed his arms.

"Oh, no – _you're_ the one who's better at convincing people, not me. And I'm going to go make sure Adeline's not in over her head. Olan wouldn't leave her if she's in danger, but knowing her, she's up to her pointy ears with errands already," Alistair sighed, and Leliana smiled, watching him walk down the hill towards the main village.

oOo

Inside of the Chantry, people moaned and wept; women were sobbing quietly, and children stared about fearfully, asking where their parents had gone. My heart tightened – _this is worse than Lothering,_ I thought, looking around at the miserable people. At the head of the Chantry, near the altar, stood a man wearing finer clothes than the villagers, with mid-length light brown hair, a small braid tucked over one ear, and short stubble around his mouth and chin. _Bann Teagan, perhaps,_ I thought. He glanced up at our approach, looking me over curiously as I was brought before him.

"Ah, Tomas. Who is this with you? No simple traveler, obviously," he remarked, seeing the unusually decorative saber on my hip, and the mabari hound who sat by my side.

"No, my lord. She arrived just now, and I thought you would want to see her," Tomas replied, and the man nodded.

"Well done, Tomas. A pleasure to meet you, my lady. I am Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere, brother to the Arl," Bann Teagan introduced himself. "We don't see many Elves in these parts. Can I ask who you are and why you've come?" he asked, and I glanced around slowly, trying to look relaxed.

"I came to see Arl Eamon," I replied, and he seemed surprised.

"You're here to see Eamon? An Elf? Whatever for?" Teagan asked, and I felt my lips harden into a thin line at his words.

"Does he not see Elves?" I asked coolly. Teagan watched me carefully, seeing the hint of anger in my eyes.

"He doesn't see much of anyone at the moment. Did you know Eamon has been ill?" the Bann asked.

"How convenient," I said, feigning ignorance.

"No one has heard from the castle in days. No guards patrol the walls, and no one has responded to my shouts. The attacks started a few nights ago. Evil… _things_ …surged from the castle. We drove them back, but many perished during the assault," Teagan described, and I crossed my arms, listening. "Some call them the walking dead; decomposing corpses returning to life with a hunger for human flesh…" he murmured, his expression disturbed as he remembered the creatures.

I hadn't sense any darkspawn up on the hill, so I wondered what sort of 'evil' creatures these villagers were dealing with. I _did_ get a strange, creepy feeling from the castle as we passed by the path that led towards it, however; maybe it had to do with this 'evil' that Bann Teagan was describing. "…why are you telling me this?" I asked, and Teagan looked at me pleadingly.

"Because each night they return, their ranks bolstered with our recently dead, and we are desperate for help!" he replied, anxiety in his tone. "With Cailan dead and Loghain starting a war over the throne, no one responds to my urgent calls for help. I have a feeling tonight's assault will be the worst yet. I'm asking you, please…help us, help Eamon," he pleaded.

"You don't even know who I am," I remarked, and Teagan sighed.

"Perhaps not. You're here, however, on the eve of our darkest hour. I'm hoping that means the Maker sent you to us," the man replied. "What do you say?"

"First, I have questions," I countered, and he nodded.

"By all means," he replied.

"Isn't there a way into the castle to get at the source?" I asked – surely taking out what was behind all this would end the problem.

"The castle is closed to us; its doors barred. We could storm it, certainly, but what would that accomplish? Our numbers are too few. We cannot throw men at the castle walls when they are needed to protect the village," he argued, and I glanced around at the moaning, miserable people.

"Why don't you just evacuate the village?" I wondered, and he shrugged helplessly.

"I tried. Our one attempt at an organized evacuation resulted in an immediate attack. Yesterday I found out these creatures attack those fleeing on their own – even during daytime. Whatever lies in the castle wants this village dead," Teagan replied.

"What happens after tonight?" I asked.

"Once the village is safe, we will try to enter the castle to find the source of this trouble," Teagan said, and I nodded, letting out a small sigh.

"I've heard enough," I said, and Teagan looked at me with hopeful eyes.

"Then you will help us?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied. The man looked at me with relief, his eyes grateful.

"Thank you! Thank you, this…means more to me than you can guess," Teagan said, taking my hand lightly in his, his eyes sincere. "Tomas, please tell Murdock what transpired. Then return to your post," he added to Tomas, who nodded.

"Yes, my lord," the man said, trotting off.

"Now then, there is much to do before night falls. I've put two men in charge of the defense outside. Murdock, the village mayor, is outside the Chantry. Ser Perth, one of Eamon's knights, is just up the cliff at the windmill, watching the castle. You may discuss with them the preparations for the coming battle," Teagan explained.

"I want to discuss the situation with you before I see them," I replied, and he nodded. "Isn't the timing of this awfully…convenient?" I asked, and Teagan seemed surprised.

"Are you suggesting what's happened here is related to Cailan's death and the civil war? Even Eamon's illness?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"Isn't Arl Eamon an heir to the throne? As are you?" I asked, and he nodded slowly.

"Our sister, Rowan, was Cailan's mother. I suppose we've royal blood, but it's a shaky claim to the throne…though still better than Loghain's," he replied, crossing his arms and stroking the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. "And it _does_ mean Eamon could intervene in Loghain's bid for the throne. But let's not leap to conclusions. I would not like to think that anyone would…wish this on my brother. He is a good man, and much-loved by the people of Redcliffe," he said, his tone worried. "I can't imagine how terrible it must be for Arlessa Isolde, and especially Connor. I would not want him to lose his father at such a young age," he murmured.

"You have some of Arl Eamon's knights here?" I asked, and he nodded.

"I have those few who returned from their quest. You know of this?" Teagan replied.

"Their search for the Urn of Sacred Ashes," I said, recalling the note I had found on Ser Henric's body, and what Ser Donall had said back in Lothering.

"Yes. I…question Isolde's decision to send so many knights in search of this relic, but I am a practical man whereas she is a woman of great faith," Teagan replied. "Ser Perth was one of the knights sent on this quest. Perhaps you should speak to him if you wish to learn more."

"I should get back to it then. Oh…the others are going to _love_ this," I muttered the last part to Olan, running a hand through my hair nervously. Alistair and Leliana would probably go along with this idea, but Morrigan and Sten might need some convincing.

"…others? What do you mean," Teagan asked, and I glanced back at him, slightly embarrassed that he had overheard.

"Oh, nothing, Bann Teagan," I replied, waving a hand dismissively.

"Ah, my lady, might I know your name?" Teagan called, and I paused, realizing I had never given it to him.

"…you can call me Tabris," I replied, and he nodded. I turned back around, heading out of the Chantry with Olan at my heels.

I walked past the militia group, watching the men struggling with their weapons, and I tried not to make a face; these are farmers, I had to remind myself, not soldiers. The man I had seen before, with the dark hair and moustache, spotted me watching the militia. He walked over to me, crossing his arms and looking me up and down, unimpressed.

"So you're the lass Bann Teagan put in charge. Mind if I ask what makes you so special that we should follow your orders?" he asked in a deep, raspy voice, and I raised an eyebrow at the question. _Is this Murdock?_ I guessed, looking back up at him with a steady gaze.

"Because I know what I'm doing, that's why," I replied, and the man snorted.

"Oh? How nice of you to drop by and grace us with your magnificence. Maybe later you could show us which end of our swords to hold," he rumbled.

"Looks like you need it. Desperately," I retorted, and he let out a quiet breath, glancing at the militia wearily.

"We aren't going to turn aside anyone who wants to help. Don't take me for being an ingrate or nothing," he said, his tone slightly less harsh. "Name's Murdock, mayor of what's left of the village – providing we aren't all killed and hauled off to the castle tonight," he added.

"Tabris," I said simply, offering a hand, and Murdock nodded, taking it. "Have faith. With some preparation, we'll defeat these things," I promised. The Mayor looked into my steady, determined eyes, his wary expression softening a bit, and he nodded faintly.

"I…I hope you're right. I've been trying to hold us together, but it isn't easy," he sighed, his voice a little less rough. "Anyhow, you're here, and they tell me you're in charge," he added, and I nodded.

"Alright, tell me what needs to be done, and I'll see what I can do," I replied.

"We need what little armor and weapons we got repaired, and quickly, or half of us will be fighting without either," Murdock began. "Owen's the only blacksmith who can do it, but the stubborn fool refuses to even talk. If we're to be ready for tonight, we'll need that crotchety bastard's help," the Mayor rumbled, looking back towards the smithy.

"Why does Owen refuse to talk to you?" I asked, and Murdock sighed.

"His daughter, Valena, is one of the Arlessa's maids; he hasn't heard from her since this whole business started," Murdock explained. "He demanded we attack the castle, break down the gate, and force our way in. I said it was impossible, but he wouldn't listen. He's locked himself in the smithy now. I can't force him to do repairs… He says he'd rather die first," he said, and I crossed my arms.

"Alright. I'll see if I can convince him otherwise. Anything else you need?" I asked, and Murdock nodded.

"We could use some extra bodies. Having a veteran like Dwyn in the militia would help a lot, but he flat out refuses," the Mayor replied. "He's a trader, a Dwarf – lives near the lake. Locked himself up in his home with some of his workers, he has, says he doesn't need any of us," Murdock said, pointing down towards the docks, in the direction of Dwyn's house. "We could use somebody with his fighting experience, but he won't come out."

"Okay. Deal with a stubborn smith, and a stubborn Dwarf," I listed, glancing down at Olan as he barked, his tail wagging.

"Right. Let's hope we see morning," Murdock said, watching as I headed off.

I tore a page out of my journal, scrawling a quick note;

 _[Alistair,_

 _Helping the village fight off walking corpses. You can stay in the house until it's done. I know Morrigan and Sten won't like it, so try to convince them that by doing this, we can gain the Arl's favor, which will help our cause in the long run. And apparently we can't leave the village, even if we want to – people trying to flee get attacked by monsters from the castle._

 _Adeline]_

I rolled up the note, handing it to Olan, who took it delicately in his teeth. "Take that to Alistair, okay boy?" I asked, and the mabari grunted, trotting back up the hill.

I headed towards the smithy, standing before the door and knocking, listening for a reply. "Go away, curse you! Leave me in peace! You've already taken everything out of my stores! There's nothing left!" a distraught voice called from within, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Is this Owen, the blacksmith? I need to speak with you," I called back.

"Oh? Who is that? What do you want? I've been through enough…" Owen said, and I bit my lip; his voice was wavering, full of grief.

"I'd prefer not to speak through a door. Can I come in?" I asked gently, and I heard him sigh.

"Hmm. Alright, alright, let me undo the locks. All I ask is that you don't make any trouble," the smith said, and I heard the faint clicks of locks being undone. I opened the door, walking in and almost toppling over from the smell; the smithy was dimly lit by a small lantern on the wall, and the room reeked of smoke and alcohol. Owen had retreated to the back of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, putting his weight on one leg. He watched me warily, lightly stroking the beard that rolled over his chest, narrowing his eyes as I stepped inside.

"So I let you in. You wanted to talk; now we're talking. Mind telling me who you are?" he asked, looking me over.

"Call me Tabris," I replied.

"Funny, you didn't sound like an Elf through the door. Can't say I expected that," Owen remarked, and I crossed my arms at his tone. "Anyhow, my name's Owen…though you might already know that. Care to join me as I get besotted? Or is there something in particular you wanted?" Owen asked, walking over to me.

"Smells like a brewery in here," I observed, trying not to make a face as Owen's breath hit my nose, laced with the stink of alcohol and vomit.

"I've been drinking since I got up this afternoon. That makes…hmm…three days. Maybe more," the smith replied absently, glancing at the empty bottles that littered the floor and the worktables.

"So why have you locked yourself in the smithy?" I asked, and Owen sighed.

"My girl, Valena, is one of the Arlessa's maids and she's trapped up there in the castle, but the mayor won't send anyone for her," Owen explained, his tone wavering and his eyes reddening in grief. "She's been my life since my wife passed on two years ago. Now she's dead or soon to be. I don't care what happens to me, or the village, or anyone," the smith said, throwing his hands in the air.

"So you intend to drink yourself to death?" I asked, and he snorted derisively.

"Why not? It's not like we're going to live past the night anyhow. Or are you going to save us?" he retorted, his tone contemptuous.

" _I_ think you can save yourselves," I replied, and he watched me carefully, seeing the determined look on my face and giving a small snort.

"Is that so? Huh. Maybe it's the drink talking, but you almost sound like you believe that," he said, shaking his head slightly. "It'd do me a world of good to think maybe someone like you could go in and find her…provided any of us live through the night," he added, letting out a small, alcohol-tinged belch as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"And…what if she's dead?" I asked softly, and he sighed.

"It…would be better than going to my grave wondering," he replied.

"I'll see what I can do," I said, and he scowled.

"Not good enough. Murdock said the same damned thing and I didn't believe him, either," the smith growled. "I want a promise. Promise me that you'll look for her, that you'll bring her back to me if you can," Owen demanded.

"No one can get to the castle right now," I reminded him.

"Eventually, they'll want to seek out the Arl and Arlessa. And when they do, you go in and bring my Valena to me," Owen replied.

"Then I promise you, I will find Valena," I said, holding out a hand. Owen shook it firmly, nodding in thanks.

"I'll accept that. It's something to hope for, at least," he sighed. "And I suppose there's no point in me sitting around, is there? Time to re-light the forge and get the smithy going, hey? Murdock'll be pleased," he rumbled, stretching his arms. He walked over to a set of wall pegs, taking down his apron and tying it on, pulling on his thick work gloves.

"So Owen, what do you know about what's going on?" I asked, leaning against a support beam as I watched him lighting the forge, clearing bottles out of his workspace.

"You mean why are these creatures attacking the village? Obviously, something wicked corrupts the castle," he replied, stoking the fire. "My daughter used to tell me the Arlessa was up to something, hiding things from her husband. I told Valena she was imagining things, but maybe the Arlessa _was_ involved in something. Blood magic, maybe," he added, and my eyes widened in surprise.

"Blood magic? A devout Andrastian like the Arlessa?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"All I know is that she's an Orlesian girl from beyond the western mountains. Far too young for our Arl, that's what I say, and too proud and headstrong from the sounds of it," the smith remarked, gathering a few empty bottles and putting them aside.

"Did Valena say anything else?" I prodded, watching as Owen sorted out his tools on the workbench, glancing back at me.

"She thought the Arlessa was having an affair with some tutor she hired for the boy, Connor. I never listened much to her talk about it, though I wish now I had," he replied. "It doesn't matter, anyway. She's lost to me, and I can't do anything about her warnings now," he sighed.

"I'll find her Owen, I promise," I assured him, and he nodded. I left him to his work, exiting the smithy and heading back towards Murdock to let him know Owen had reopened shop. As I neared the militia, I paused, crossing my arms and watching; Alistair was talking to Murdock.

"You a traveler? We seem to be getting a lot of those today," Murdock remarked, and Alistair shrugged, glancing towards the Chantry nervously.

"I…yes. I was wondering if you've seen a young woman hereabouts? She's an Elf, with red hair, carrying a saber," he described, and Murdock glanced over, noticing me watching.

"Tabris, this man's looking for you," he called, and I nodded, walking towards them.

"Didn't I tell you to stay on the hill?" I asked Alistair, who looked at me with concern.

"We got your note, but I'm not going to sit by and make you do everything on your own," he replied, and I sighed. "And…um, like you said, Sten and Morrigan weren't too happy with the idea – I could almost _feel_ Morrigan's anger from the top of the hill," he added, and I rolled my eyes.

"What's this? You've got a group of people waiting up there?" Murdock asked and I nodded.

"Yes. Apparently they're not thrilled by me deciding to… Maker's breath, can't _anyone_ follow directions?" I exclaimed, seeing the rest of the group coming down the hill towards us. Morrigan looked furious, her eyes hard as she glared at me, and Sten was watching the militia with distaste. Leliana seemed happy enough, waving cheerfully as they approached, and Olan barked in greeting, trotting by the woman's side.

"So I hear you are to defend this ruin of a village?" Morrigan asked, and I sighed, watching her carefully.

"Yes. You _do_ understand that if we try to leave, monsters will attack us? I _did_ include that in my note, yes?" I asked, and she crossed her arms.

"Surely a few undead creatures are no match for us. Why should we waste effort in trying to save a lost cause?" she asked, and I put my hands on my hips, suddenly angry with her.

"The lives of others may not be important to you, Morrigan, but they are to me," I said firmly. "And besides, even if we _did_ manage to get into the castle and find the Arl, what would he think if we just let his village be destroyed, when we could have helped?" I asked, and she let out a quiet breath, seeing my reasoning.

"…do as you wish. I suppose I should stand by you, if only to make sure you do not perish before your task is done," Morrigan replied coolly, not even bothering to mask her bitterness.

"Sten?" I asked, and the Qunari nodded.

"There are no darkspawn here. However, I understand the reasons behind your actions," he said, and I glanced at the others. Leliana would help without question – I could see it by the look in her eyes. Alistair nodded encouragingly, and I gave him a weak smile.

"I suppose that's it, then. I need to run some errands to prepare the militia for tonight. Don't draw too much…" I was about to say don't draw too much attention to yourselves, but I shrugged. "Eh, never mind." I highly doubted that our strange group _wouldn't_ draw stares – the militia was already glancing back at us, looking up at Sten with wary eyes.

"Here, I'll help you," Alistair offered, and I nodded in thanks. I watched Leliana head towards the Chantry with Olan at her heels, perhaps seeing how she could help the villagers inside, and Sten sat down on a crate nearby, watching the militia carefully as the men clumsily swung their weapons around. He glanced up at the Chantry building and muttered something about human wisdom, shaking his head. Morrigan headed back up the hill, informing us that she would be gathering herbs to make healing poultices.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	13. Chapter 13: Free Ale, Free Tavern

Chapter 13: Free Ale, Free Tavern

Author note:

Fairly short chapter – the last one was dragging a bit, so I tried to cut the original chapter in half.

Disclaimer – I do not own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"So, what do you have to do?" Alistair asked, walking beside me as we headed towards Dwyn's house.

"Oh, just convince a stubborn Dwarf and his workers to help the militia," I replied, and he smiled at my tone.

"Not looking forward to that, I take it?" he said, and I shrugged.

"You've _met_ Dwarves before, haven't you?" I asked with a laugh, and Alistair nodded, smiling. "Apparently he's locked himself in his house and won't come out for anyone," I explained.

"Well, let's hope you can convince him to come out, then," Alistair replied. I looked up at him curiously, and he smiled, seeing my look. "Want to ask me something?" he asked, and I bit my lip.

"I was wondering why you kept your birthright a secret," I replied.

"You…never asked?" he tried stalling, and I snorted.

" _That's_ a cheap answer," I retorted, and he sighed, seeing my 'I'm not dealing with this crap right now' look.

"All right, if you want the full explanation, I'll give it to you," he replied, stopping as we looked out over the lake, standing on a small pier. "The thing is, I'm used to not telling anyone who didn't already know; it was always a secret. Even _Duncan_ was the only Grey Warden who knew," Alistair explained. "And then _after_ the battle, when I _should_ have told you…I don't know. It seemed like it was too late by then. How do you just tell someone that?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"I guess I can understand that," I replied in a gentler tone; I wasn't really angry with him, but I _was_ still curious about this.

"I…I should have told you anyway. It was important for you to know. I guess part of me liked you not knowing," Alistair said, and I looked up at him oddly.

"You…enjoyed not telling me? Why? What happens when people find out?" I asked, puzzled.

"It's just that anyone who's ever found out has treated me differently afterwards. I was the bastard prince instead of just being Alistair," he replied, a bit of anxiety in his voice. "I know that must sound stupid to you, but I hate that it's shaped my entire life. I never wanted it, and I _certainly_ don't want to be king. The very idea of it terrifies me," he explained.

"It doesn't sound stupid at all," I assured him, but he shrugged weakly.

"For all the good it does me. My blood seems certain to haunt me no matter what I do," he sighed. "I guess I should be thankful that Arl Eamon is far more likely to inherit the throne. If he's all right. I hope he's all right…" he murmured anxiously. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. I…I guess I was just hoping that you would like me for who I am. It was a dumb thing to do," Alistair apologized, glancing down at me. I sighed, taking his hands and looking up at him.

"I _do_ like you, Alistair, and not because of your blood," I assured him, and his eyes widened slightly at my words.

"Oh, I…oh. I see," he replied, suddenly a bit nervous. "I guess it's kind of a relief that you know now," he added, and I smiled.

"Don't worry yourself over it – you'll always be plain old Alistair to me," I assured him, and I paused, realizing what I had said. "Huh. That…sounded better in my head," I admitted awkwardly, and he laughed.

"No, honestly I prefer it that way," Alistair smiled, and I grinned up at him as we continued walking along the docks. "You know," he began, glancing towards the lake, "there's a legend about Lake Calenhad. Have you heard it?" he asked, and I shook my head.

"I don't know many stories. Well, a couple about the Dalish but…nothing about Lake Calenhad," I replied, and he smiled slightly.

"They say that Calenhad spent a year and a day in the tower of Magi; every day he would take a cup of water from the lake, and bring it up to the top of the tower. There, with magic, a single ring of chain-mail would be forged from the water. That armor was magical – no sword could cut it, and no arrow could pierce it, so long as Calenhad stood on Ferelden soil," Alistair said, and I crossed my arms, smirking at him; his eyes nearly shone as he recalled the tale.

"So…after telling that story with such reverence, you're going to say that you're not at least a _little_ proud to be the descendant of King Calenhad?" I asked, and Alistair smiled slightly.

"Well…maybe a little," he admitted as we continued. We stood in front of Dwyn's house, and I knocked at the door. No one answered, and I glanced up at Alistair. He shrugged, and I knocked again, a little louder this time.

"Hello?" I called, but there was no reply. I placed my ear against the door, listening – I could hear faint movement inside. I made a face, knocking again. "I can go at it all day," I called in, and I heard someone come to the door.

"You can knock until your knuckles are raw, lass. I'm not coming out," a rough, gravelly voice said, and I crossed my arms.

" _Or_ I can break down the door," I offered.

"Oh really? I'd like to see you try," the voice replied, and I snorted.

"Must you _always_ resort to violence?" Alistair teased, and I rolled my eyes.

"Alright, I won't break the door down," I said, opening the pouch on my belt and pulling out some lock picks. I unlocked the door, swinging it open and walking in.

"Wonderful. Intruders. I hope you've a good reason for breaking and entering into my home," a burly Dwarf remarked, crossing his arms and looking up at me warily. He just reached my shoulders, but his strong build and powerful eyes belayed any doubt that he could handle himself in a scrape. The Dwarf had thick, red hair and a long beard, which was tied in two braids that hung down on either side of his mouth, topped with a moustache. Along his chin were a pair of smaller braids, decorated with a gold ring where they touched his chin.

"Well, I didn't break down your door," I remarked, and he snorted.

"Alright, I'll give you that. The name's Dwyn, pleased to meet you. Now get out," he said flatly, nodding towards the door.

"Murdock needs you for the militia," I replied, and the Dwarf glowered up at me.

"So, what? You're recruiting for him? I'll tell you what I told Murdock; I'm not risking my neck for this town," he rumbled in his gravelly voice.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" I asked, and he thought for a moment, stroking his beard.

"Maybe. What do you have in mind?" Dwyn asked, and I nodded back towards the town.

"I can put in a good word for you with the Mayor, maybe the Arl, too," I suggested. He nodded, snorting softly as he fingered the gold ring on his beard.

"Hmm. You might just be able to pull that off. Fine, I'll throw in with the militia. For now. You better be out there, too, when the sun goes down. I'm not fighting for a lost cause, you hear me?" Dwyn said finally, marching out of the house with his two workers in tow.

"Huh…well, that was easier than I thought," Alistair remarked, and I shrugged. "You always seem to have little trouble convincing people to go along with you," he added, and I smiled.

"Perhaps it's my feminine charm?" I teased.

"Hm, maybe," he chuckled, following me outside as we headed back to Murdock.

oooo

"Well, it looks like Owen's finally doing the repairs we need," Murdock remarked, nodding towards the smithy, where the militiamen were carrying in weapons and armor that needed to be repaired. The clank of the hammer against metal, along with Owen's bawdy song, echoed out through the open door, and I nodded, glad the smith was working again. "The damned fool is falling over drunk and still manages to make smithing look easy. Good enough, I say," Murdock snorted. "I'll inform Bann Teagan the militia is ready to fight. We'll give those bastards a welcome they won't soon forget!" he added, a grim smile on his face.

I glanced over towards the men who were still practicing – Sten had gotten fed up with the clumsy handling of their weapons, apparently, and had begun to organize them. "How's morale?" I asked, and the mayor crossed his arms, nodding towards the training area.

"The men's spirits are high, for now; far better than I expected, to be honest. That Qunari friend of yours has a harsh way of going about things, but he's whipped them into shape. They'll at least be able to outmaneuver shambling corpses," Murdock snorted. "Dwyn's presence also makes the men a bit more confident. It helps to know a veteran is on our side tonight."

Leliana came down the hill with Olan, telling us that Ser Perth and his knights were ready to make their stand on the hill. "You can wait here until sunset, or head up and help Ser Perth hold the hill – I suggest the latter; his knights are more heavily armed and armored, but there are only five of them," Murdock explained, and I nodded.

"I'll do that. If things start looking grim down here, though, send a runner, and I'll try to get to you as soon as I can," I promised.

"I have a good feeling about tonight," Murdock said, a faint, hopeful smile on his face.

"Sten," I called, and the Qunari glanced over at me. "When you're ready, head up to the hill; we're going to make our stand there," I said, and he nodded. "Leliana," I added, and the girl glanced at me, "I want you down here; get onto the Chantry's roof and shoot at the creatures from above."

"Yes," she replied, nodding and returning to the Chantry to wait.

"Olan, you stay down here too," I said to the mabari, who barked, sitting down next to Murdock and looking up at the mayor with bright eyes. "Come along then," I added to Alistair, who nodded, following me as I headed up the hill. We passed by a tavern along the way, and I nodded towards the place. "Mind if we stop in here?" I asked, and Alistair shrugged.

We were greeted by a pretty red-haired woman, who grinned at us, nodding towards the bar as she spoke. "More doomed souls come to drown their sorrows here, I see? If you came for a drink, you'll have to talk to Lloyd. He's got a vise grip on the spigots. I'm just here to keep the boys from mutiny," she winked, and I smiled – I liked her already. I glanced around the tavern, spotting a nervous-looking Elf with a bow across his back sitting in the corner, and doing a bad job of pretending he wasn't listening.

"What do you know about that Elf in the corner? He doesn't have to look of a militiaman," I murmured, nodding discreetly towards the dark-haired Elf while his back was turned.

"Not much. He's very quiet," the woman replied as she glanced at him. "Says his name's Berwick and he's here to meet his brother, but I think he's lying. He's a bit… _creepy_ ," she added softly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Shouldn't you be heading down to the Chantry Miss…?"

"Bella's fine. And later on, yes; Lloyd will lock himself in the cellar and I'll go to the Chantry. Are you…fighting tonight?" Bella asked, and I nodded. "That's…that's good." She smiled, a worried look in her eyes.

"So how's business been? I imagine things have been rough lately," I asked, and she crossed her arms, nodding.

"Rough's an understatement; without the castle soldiers, the only customers we have are local, and they're all in the militia, with no money to spend. The few _with_ any money are here, but it's not enough to justify working. Lloyd's a…greasy pig and if I didn't need this job so badly…" Bella trailed off, shaking her head and giving a small sigh.

"You don't care for the man, I take it?" I asked; he was a sweaty, grumpy looking man with a sour, bored look on his face as he tended the few customers that were here. Bella made a face, snorting softly in disgust.

"He gropes me and pays me next to nothing, but I suppose it could be worse. Not like I got many options," she replied.

"Why don't you leave?" I asked, and she shrugged helplessly at me.

"And go where? With no money and no prospects, I'd just end up somewhere else, working for someone worse," she answered.

"Perhaps if you had some help?" I offered, and her eyes lit up.

"You mean after the fighting's over? I'd really like that… What would I have to do in return?" she asked, and I shook my head.

"How about you promise that you won't end up working for someone like Lloyd," I replied, and she gave me a weak smile.

"That's very kind of you. I…I don't know what to say," Bella grasped my hands warmly, and I smiled at her. She thanked me and headed back to work with a spring in her step. I returned my attention to the Elf in the corner, glancing at Alistair, who had been keeping an eye on him.

"So…he doesn't look suspicious in the least," he remarked, standing by the door as I walked over to Berwick.

I slid into a seat next to him and gave the startled Elf a charming smile. "Not looking for company," he muttered, and I laced my fingers together, propping my elbows on the table and resting my chin on the back of my hands, watching him as he avoided my eyes.

"I hear you're Berwick?" I asked, and he jumped.

"What? How did you know that? Err…well, that's my name. Why?" he asked, looking nervously at me before looking away.

"You seem awfully nervous, Berwick. Why is that?" I asked slowly. His fingers tightened and loosened around the handle of his tankard as his voice rose slightly.

"I…no reason. I just…didn't know how you knew my name, that's all," he replied.

"I asked around," I smiled, and his lips tightened into a line.

"Oh… I guess that, uh, makes sense," he trailed off, looking over at me quickly. "But I'm not here to talk," he added. He saw that I had no intention of leaving, and he made a small, frustrated sound in his throat. "Look, you're very pretty and all, but I was told to…er…just leave me alone!" Berwick stammered out, looking away quickly. My eyes hardened as I stared at him, seeing a vein pulsating nervously on his neck.

"What do you mean? What were you _told_ to do?" I asked, my tone gentle, with a hint of steel.

"Nothing. Nobody told me to do anything. Just because you're a _Grey Warden_ doesn't mean you can go around _threatening_ people!" Berwick retorted, and I raised an eyebrow.

"And how do you know I'm a Grey Warden?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"I just…overheard it. That's all," he replied weakly, seeing my doubtful look. "If you'll excuse me…I want to get to the Chantry before the sun goes down," he added hurriedly, standing. As he placed his hands on the table, I grabbed a nearby cheese knife off a plate, stabbing it down hard between two of his fingers, the blade a hair's breadth from his skin. His face turned pale as he stared back at me, my expression icy-calm.

"This will be easier if you just tell me what you're hiding," I argued, and his lip trembled as he stared at the knife between his fingers.

"If I…? But I never…oh, all right, I'll tell you! Just…don't hurt me," Berwick stammered out, sitting back down. "This is more than I bargained for. Look, they just paid me to watch the castle and send word if anything should change," he explained. "But they never said anything about _monsters!_ I haven't even been able to report anything since this started! I'm stuck, same as you, I swear!" he added, desperation in his tone.

"Who are 'they'? Who hired you to do this?" I prodded, placing my fingertip on the handle of the knife, tapping it lightly.

"A tall fellow, I forget his name. He, uh, said he was working for Howe; Arl Rendon Howe. He's an important man, Teyrn Loghain's right hand! So I didn't do anything wrong!" he said quickly, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" I asked, and he reached a hand into his pocket.

"Here…this is a letter from them. It has instructions and everything…keep it! Do whatever you want with it!" Berwick said, almost shoving the letter into my hands. I read it over carefully – all it said was to report any changes in and around the castle. "I just thought I was serving the king and making a bit of coin on the side. You have to believe me!" he pleaded, and I snorted.

"I think you should help defend Redcliffe tonight," I suggested, and his face went pale. I jerked the knife out of the table, raising an eyebrow at his hesitation and tapping the flat of the blade along the back of his hand.

"All…alright. I'll do it," he stammered out. "Thank you for your mercy, I won't forget it!" Berwick stood. He gave me a quick bow and ran off to join the other militiamen, back in the town square.

"Well, there's one more person defending Redcliffe tonight," I sighed, glancing over Alistair's shoulder as I got up. Some militiamen were standing in the corner, their voices low as they complained about something. I wandered over curiously, and Alistair smirked.

"Looking to help more people, my dear?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"Oh, you know me – save every doomed soul I can," I replied, and he rolled his eyes.

"I can't believe Lloyd won't even give us some free ale. A time like this and all he thinks about is turning a profit?" One man complained, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, his expression sour.

"Did you expect any different? That bastard's always been cheaper than an Antivan whore," another man muttered, shaking his head.

"Here we are defending the village, and he don't even have the decency to help us out!" a third one grumbled, glaring at Lloyd, who was writing something in his account book.

"What, he's not helping tonight?" I piped up, and the men looked at me for a few moments, wondering if I was serious. When they saw that I was, they burst into laughter, shaking their heads.

"Ha! I've seen Lloyd handle a sword. He should stick to something he knows about, like keeping me nice and drunk for the fight!" the first man chuckled.

"Lloyd is charging us for coin we don't even got any more. Nobody's working right now; we're all just trying to survive!" the third man argued, throwing another glare at Lloyd, who was paying us no heed as wrote something in an account book. He shouted something at Bella, who flinched, nodding and running into the storeroom to fetch something.

"Ahhh, what difference does it make? He won't care," the second man sighed.

"Maybe I'll go have a chat with this Lloyd," I murmured absently, walking over to the bar. Lloyd looked up from his account book, his eyes going over me warily – he must have seen what had happened with Berwick.

"Hello there, friend. Can't say we've ever met before. Stranger to the village, I take it?" he drawled, his voice slow and bored-sounding. "Haven't had many travelers lately. All this nonsense is bad for business. Bet you regret coming, yes?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"Oh, not so much, really," I shrugged, hopping onto a barstool and leaning against the counter, my feet a few inches from the floor. I crossed my legs, shooting Alistair a glare as he smirked at me. _I really wish they made more Elf-sized stools and chairs. I always feel like an idiot when I go to a bar,_ I thought with chagrin.

"Brave words, brave words. Well, we'll see when night falls, won't we?" Lloyd replied ominously, tucking away his account book and pulling a cleaning cloth from his apron, absently wiping at a tankard. "So what'll it be? You _are_ here to drink, I hope?" he added, and I nodded towards the militiamen in the corner.

"I hear you're charging the militia for ale," I remarked, and he snorted, scowling at the men in the corner as they continued to complain.

"Why shouldn't I? They may not have much coin, but I'm not giving it away for free!" he rumbled grumpily.

"Their money won't help you if you're dead," I said, and his eyes widened suddenly.

"Hey, there's no need for that kind of talk! That's murder!" Lloyd replied, suddenly on edge. _Whoa! I only meant that everyone could die tonight! I wasn't_ _ **threatening**_ _him!_ I managed to keep my surprise off my face, deciding to go with how _he_ had interpreted my words.

"Would anyone miss you?" I asked, a hint of mocking in my tone, and Lloyd's eyes darted about the room; everyone there seemed to be throwing him disapproving glances now and again, and the big man's shoulders stiffened.

"Hey, look…see? Eighty silvers! I could pay you to…err…protect me! There's no need for any… _unpleasantness_ ," he stammered out, and my eyes narrowed as he slid the coins across the counter. A sudden idea came to me, and I nearly grinned at the thought. _I hope this works…_

"I'd only protect something I own. Understand me?" I retorted in a low voice, and Lloyd stared at me for a few moments before realizing what I meant.

"Err…yes! Of course! You could be…part owner? No, _full_ owner! Heh, anything you need…" the man stammered out nervously. "Take the silvers. As, uh, your share of the profits, up front," Lloyd mumbled quickly, tucking the coins into a small bag and handing them to me. "What else can I get you, partner?" he asked, and I smiled charmingly, tucking the coin purse into my pocket and standing.

"Keep the ale flowing – free of charge for the militia. It'll boost morale at least," I ordered, and Lloyd nodded quickly, looking at the militiamen in the corner.

"Right then! You men over there…drinks are on the house! All militia drink for free!" Lloyd called.

"Ha! You're a saint, Lloyd! Ha-ha!" one of the militia laughed, grinning at us.

"…if them creatures don't kill me I swear they'll bleed me dry…" Lloyd muttered under his breath, clamping his mouth shut as he glanced back at me.

"I think we'll be going now," I said, bidding him farewell.

"Right…have a nice day. Partner," Lloyd said, cowed.

oooo

"Well that was…interesting," Alistair remarked, once we were outside.

"I know, right? Walk into a tavern, and I'm suddenly the owner," I grinned. "And before you ask, I wasn't _trying_ to threaten him. All I meant to say was that there's no point in worrying about coin when the creatures are going to attack tonight. _He_ interpreted it as a threat," I explained.

"I…assumed as much. You aren't exactly the type to go around randomly threatening people," Alistair replied. "So what do you intend to do with the place?" he added, and I shrugged.

"You mean before or after I get some Elf-sized furniture?" I asked, and he smirked. "Honestly, though, I'm not sure. Let's see if we live through the night, and _then_ I can think about it," I sighed, scratching behind one of my ears. "It's weird, you know?" I asked, and he glanced back at me as we walked up the hill. "Just a few months ago a handful of silvers was the most money I'd seen in my life, and now…I have an entire _tavern_ ," I grinned, looking back at the place from higher up on the path. "Hmm…maybe after this whole Blight situation is dealt with, I can move my family out of Denerim, and they can set up shop here," I mused, crossing my arms.

"I never thought you'd be one to settle down," Alistair said, and I laughed.

"Oh, no I'm not talking about _me_ ," I replied. "I just want to get Shianni and my father out of the Alienage. Maybe Soris too…but now that he's married, he'll probably want his own house," I explained, pursing my lips as I looked at the building thoughtfully.

"So what about you? What will _you_ do?" Alistair asked, and I shrugged.

"I'm a Grey Warden, now. I'll stick with you, wherever we go after the Blight," I replied, and he smiled a bit at my words. "…that is, if we don't all end up dead in a _ditch_ before we reach the archdemon," I added, and he laughed.

"Oh, you're such a mood-killer, you know that?" he grinned, pinching my cheek.

"I do my best – can't have us feeling all warm and fuzzy before our impending doom, now can I?" I replied cheekily. "Ah, wait, I just remembered something. I need to run down to the village for a minute – you can go ahead without me," I added, trotting back down the hill as he nodded. _I should…probably tell Teagan who I am. He's not going to turn on us after we've helped him, right?_ I thought, heading towards the Chantry.

oooo

"I hear both Murdock and Ser Perth are ready for nightfall. Excellent news," Bann Teagan said, once I greeted him. The people in the Chantry seemed a little less on edge; they were feeling the confidence from the militia as the men trained outside, and the bit of hope that I saw in their eyes gladdened me.

"Yes. The militiamen are feeling confident about tonight," I replied. My eyes moved slowly across Teagan's face, and he seemed to notice the tension in my shoulders as I tried to calm myself down. "Um…there is something else…" I added, glancing around nervously. "I'm…a Grey Warden," I murmured, and Teagan's eyes widened slightly.

"You're a… I see. Why didn't you just tell me this earlier?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"It isn't exactly _safe_ to be a Grey Warden right now," I replied carefully, and he nodded in understanding, crossing his arms.

"You have good reason to be suspicious, Miss Tabris," he said, and I smiled weakly.

"Adeline is fine," I replied quietly, and Teagan smiled slightly, seeing that I trusted him a bit more.

"I thought you were all slain along with my nephew. It appears that isn't the only lie Loghain is telling about the Grey Wardens," Teagan sighed.

"You don't believe Loghain's lies?" I asked, and he snorted.

"What, that he pulled his men in order to save them? That Cailan risked everything in the name of glory? Hardly," he scoffed, shaking his head at the thought. "Loghain calls the Grey Wardens traitors, murderers of the king. I don't believe it; it is an act of a desperate man," he added. He looked at me quietly for a few moments before asking a question. "There is a Grey Warden who goes by the name of Alistair… Does he yet live?"

"Yes. We're traveling together, in fact," I replied, and Teagan let out a relieved breath.

"He does? Finally, some good news amidst all the bad. Thank you," he said.

"Please, do not speak of this, Bann Teagan – I know you would not harm us, but Alistair and I have already been attacked by those desperate for the reward on our heads," I murmured hurriedly, and he nodded.

"I will keep your identity a secret, my lady," he promised, and I thanked him.

"I will be up on the hill with Ser Perth and his knights. I won't let Redcliffe be overrun," I assured him, and Teagan smiled.

"Thank you…Adeline," he said, watching as I headed out of the Chantry, returning to the hill. I greeted Alistair and Sten once I reached the windmill, walking over to Ser Perth as he and his knights prepared for the battle.

"Greetings to you. I was curious about the stranger Bann Teagan placed in charge of our defense, but now I see his reasoning. You are obviously far from ordinary," Ser Perth greeted me. The knight had mid-length reddish-brown hair and a well-groomed goatee, which he stroked absently as he looked me over, his eyes curious. "I must admit I know not how to address an Elf in your position. I do not wish to be rude," he added, and I shrugged.

"Call me whatever you would call a human," I replied simply, and he nodded.

"Will 'my lady' suffice?" he asked.

"As you wish," I replied.

"I am Ser Perth, until recently in direct service of Arl Eamon of Redcliffe. For now, my charge is defending the village from these evil assaults," Ser Perth continued. "Would that I had chosen not to seek out the Urn of Sacred Ashes, perhaps I would have fended off whatever evil befell the castle…or perhaps I would be dead," he sighed, glancing up towards Castle Redcliffe, eerily still and silent. "Ah, well. With fortune and the Maker's favor, perhaps all is not yet lost."

"What is your status?" I asked, and Ser Perth glanced back at his knights, who were carefully inspecting their equipment.

"Although we are far better equipped than Murdock and his villagers, we knights are too few. Things will be grim after sundown," he replied. "However, we have retrieved oil from the village store, as your companion, Leliana, suggested. It is ready to use as our first line of defense," he added. _Ah, so_ _ **that's**_ _what she was doing, running up and down the hill earlier,_ I thought, nodding. "Overall, I believe my knights are ready for the coming battle," he finished.

"Good. I will make my stand here, with the knights," I said, glancing up at the sky. The sun had begun to set, and I walked about absently, looking out over the lake and spotting a foggy shape, far off in the distance. _I think that's the Circle tower. It's in the right direction, at least,_ I thought, folding my arms behind me and shifting my weight to my other leg.

The summer air was warm, and I closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of the sun on my skin, and how the wind picked up my fiery hair, tossing it about my face. It had grown long again in the four months since my departure from Denerim, reaching a little way past my shoulders. "Hmph. Defensible enough spot," Sten remarked, looking around at the area carefully as he joined me. I glanced up at the Qunari curiously, recalling what he had said earlier.

"So what did you mean about human wisdom, when you were by the Chantry before?" I asked, and his violet eyes scanned the horizon carefully for a few moments before glancing back at me.

"Perhaps if humans sought wisdom beyond the walls of Chantries, they might find it now and then," he replied.

"And I suppose you think the Qunari have found wisdom?" I asked skeptically.

"I know," Sten answered simply. "Wisdom is like breath. You need it, but no other can give you theirs," he added.

"How are you supposed to find it, then?" I wondered.

"It's everywhere. In every moment of eternity there is a chance to find it. You have only to reach for it," he replied, and I looked up at him, mildly surprised by his words. _I…have underestimated him very much, it seems,_ I thought, finding myself wondering more and more about the Qunari.

"There _is_ some wisdom in the Chant, you know," I argued.

"Then someone should release it into the wild. It is in danger of dying out," Sten countered, and I smiled faintly, looking out at the lake as it shone like molten gold in the light of the setting sun.

"That's a good one, were you saving that up?" I asked, glancing up at him.

"No, that just came to me now," he replied. "Tell me; where is the wisdom in crying for a derelict god to save you?" he urged, and I shrugged.

"There isn't much, I suppose. But the Chant of Light isn't all about prayer," I remarked, "It's also about history." I had never been a very devout Andrastian; I believed in the Maker, and prayed every now and again…but I thought that sometimes, people relied a little _too_ much on their faith, and were blind to what _they_ could do as they prayed for the Maker to save them.

"My people have a tale: A great ashkaari during his travels came upon a village in the desert," Sten began, and I listened to his words intently. "There, he found the houses crumbling. The earth so dry and dead that the people tied themselves to each other for fear a strong wind would carry the ground out from under their feet. Nothing grew there except the bitter memory of gardens. The ashkaari stopped the first man he saw, and asked, 'What happened here?'. 'Drought came. And the world changed from prosperity to ruin,' the man told him."

"So what happened?" I asked, and Sten continued.

"'Change it back.' The ashkaari replied. The villager became angry then, believing the ashkaari mocked him, for no one could simply change the world on a whim. To which the ashkaari answered, 'Then change yourself. You make your own world'," Sten finished his story, and I crossed my arms, nodding slowly.

"I…suppose you have a point," I admitted.

"Believe in whatever you like; absent creators, or whimsical gods. Follow prophets, or ashkaari, or omens in the earth and sky," Sten said, "You will find wisdom only if you seek it."

"…thank you, Sten. You've given me much to think about," I replied, glancing up at the warrior with respect in my eyes.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	14. Chapter 14: Attack at Nightfall

Chapter 14: Attack at Nightfall

Author note:

Just a quick warning – this might get a little graphic

Disclaimer – I do not own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The last rays of sunlight sank below the horizon, and the sky turned dark blue as the stars came out. I glanced towards Castle Redcliff as a loud, grating sound echoed towards us; the portcullis had been raised, and an eerie green mist was slowly rolling out of the castle grounds, billowing like a thick cloud of smoke. I could hear alarm bells ringing from the village below as the last of the villagers ran into the Chantry, barring the doors.

Ser Perth and his knights stood behind a set of spiked wooden barricades that we had set up earlier, watching the narrow road from the castle warily as the thick cloud crossed the bridge, following the path towards the village. I drew my saber, the blade shining faint silver in the moonlight, the runes that decorated its length pulsating electric blue. I could hear it humming a high, clear note; I felt the blade vibrating, as if the saber were quivering in anticipation of the coming battle.

Sten and Alistair stood by my side as I stepped out in front of the barricades, looking up the path as the green mist came into view, rolling slowly into the valley until it filled the pathway. I wrinkled my nose at the scent: the ripe stench of rotting flesh. I could see through the fog, faintly, the strange, misshapen forms of the undead creatures as they shambled towards us. When they spotted us, and the group of men behind us, the monsters gave bone-chilling shrieks, charging down the hill. The knights looked unnerved by the creatures, but I knew they would hold the line if any got past us.

I grinned, suddenly excited; my blood was boiling in my veins at the prospect of a fight, and I leapt forth, darting into the mob of creatures as they charged. Sten and Alistair started with surprise, taking a heartbeat to recover before running after me – it had been a while since we had gotten into a battle where I didn't have to hold back; I had almost forgotten how much I loved the rush of adrenalin that now seared through me.

I found myself laughing madly, my blade like a whirlwind as I dismembered the creatures, their blood splattering across my face and clothes as my lips were curled up in a smile of near ecstasy. I shore off arms and legs left and right, my saber singing and humming as it shimmered – I swore, the blade looked as if its length were coated in blue-grey flames as I danced among the undead. One creature leapt at me when I tripped over a severed head, managing to sink its teeth into my bicep – I elbowed it off and swung the saber around, cracking it across the skull with the handle.

The creature fell, and I plunged my blade into its chest, drawing in a surprised breath through my teeth – the blade actually _was_ on fire for a moment before flickering out. I stared at it in shock, quickly shaking myself off – I needed to stay focused while there were still enemies about. Alistair and Sten fought on either side of me as more and more undead poured down the hillside, staying together so that we weren't overwhelmed. I guarded their backs, stabbing at the creatures when they tried to get behind the pair of warriors and keeping an eye on my blade…but it didn't set itself on fire again, no matter how many undead I felled – I was beginning to wonder if I had just been imagining things.

The undead came in waves, but we managed to hold them back – any that got past the three of us were dispatched by the knights, who would then drag the bodies into a bonfire they had lit by the mill, burning the corpses to make sure they never rose again. My blade seemed to burn the creatures, even when it _wasn't_ mysteriously on fire; the saber appeared to pulsate and glow in their presence, and the undead shrieked in agony as the metal touched their rotted flesh. They began to run from me when the humming blade neared them, and I laughed wickedly, chasing them down and tearing them apart.

I stood amongst the bodies, my blade dripping blood, and I looked about in puzzlement as the rush of excitement ebbed away; it took me a moment to realize the fighting had stopped. "Not a single one passed us," Ser Perth remarked, impressed by our skill. I flicked blood from the saber, the dark liquid sizzling off with a faint hiss as it evaporated, and I looked at the blade oddly – now that the undead were gone, it had returned to a gentler humming, as if it were purring in contentment. _This is too weird,_ I thought, making a face as I turned the sword slowly over.

"Huh. Do you think it's enchanted?" I mused, glancing towards Alistair, who shrugged.

"Maybe. I never actually saw Duncan use it; he preferred longswords and daggers, I think," Alistair replied.

"Hmm…well, it seems to be hurting the undead more than normal metal, at any rate," I observed, glancing back towards the knights. "Let's keep an eye out for more; this might just be the first of a larger wave," I warned, and they nodded, thinking the same. I massaged my left bicep gingerly, pulling off my glove and rolling up the sleeve; while the undead hadn't managed to break the skin when it bit me, there was a row of tooth-marks on my arm, and the area around them felt sore and swollen.

"Ouch, that looks painful," Alistair remarked, and I shrugged, rolling the sleeve back down.

"Don't worry – it looks worse than it feels," I assured him, asking Alistair and Sten if they had any injuries. Sten had a small cut across his jaw where one of the creatures had managed to scratch him, and Alistair was massaging the shoulder of his shield-arm. "Did you pull something?" I asked, but Alistair shook his head.

"No, but one of the walking corpses was carrying a sledgehammer. Nearly dented the shield and stunned my shoulder – if I hadn't deflected it at the last second it would have broken my arm," he explained, and I pursed my lips.

"Alright. If you need to step back, the knights are ready to hold the line," I replied, and he frowned at my words.

"Adeline, I've fought with worse than a stunned shield-arm before," he replied almost scathingly, and I crossed my arms.

"Not the point. I want no heroics from you. Or you, either," I added, looking at Sten as he watched the hill for more signs of trouble. Alistair looked at me in silence for a few moments before letting out a sigh.

"As you wish," Alistair murmured, although I could see that he wasn't pleased with my decision. "But I swear, if this is because I told you about my–" he was suddenly angry, and I held up a hand, cutting him off.

"No. It's not. It's because we're friends, and I don't want to risk you getting killed because of a seemingly minor injury. If you feel your shield-arm failing, pull back," I said firmly, and Alistair's anger dissipated as he realized that this wasn't about him being prince.

"Yes, I'm sorry," he apologized, and I smiled gently at the man.

"Don't apologize – I should have been more forthcoming with my reasons," I replied. "And remember what I said; you're just plain old Alistair to me," I added softly, and he smiled.

"Parshaara – focus on the task at hand," Sten rumbled nearby, and Alistair and I turned our attention back towards the hill, still smiling slightly as we cast quick glances at one another. Evidently, the Qunari wasn't finding much levity in our current situation.

Once we saw that the creatures could catch fire like dry wood, we began pouring oil out along the path in a long line, the knights sitting ready to light it at a moment's notice. I glanced back towards the village as I heard someone coming up the path; an archer was running towards us with Olan at his side, the mabari barking at me in greeting. I ran over, meeting the man, who was gasping for breath and pointing frantically back at the village.

"The monsters are attacking from the lake! They're attacking the barricades! We need help!" he cried, and I nodded.

"Ser Perth! Can you hold the hill?" I called, and the man nodded. "Alistair, Sten, let's go," I added, and we followed the man down the steep path. The monsters were swarming in from around the houses; they must have found another path down from the castle, and were trying to catch us off guard by circling around the hill.

The militiamen were holding their own; the men let out fearsome roars as they fought – despite their fear, they refused to back down as they protected their home and their loved ones. Leliana and Berwick were crouched on the Chantry roof, crippling the undead with well-placed shots to the knees and ankles, hindering their movements as the militia attacked. Morrigan was casting ice-spells, freezing the undead and watching as men with maces and hammers shattered the creatures to bits.

The five of us joined them, plowing into the undead; as they saw us, the militia seemed to pick up the pace, heartened by our support. I ducked and dodged and leapt about, jumping from enemy to enemy and inflicting crippling wounds, letting the militia finish off the corpses as I lopped off the undead creatures' limbs. Sten was making large, sweeping swings with his great sword, mowing down the enemies as he shore the walking dead in half, clearing out a path for some of the militia to circle around and take the corpses from behind.

Alistair was at my back; or rather, I was at his as we fought – Alistair would draw in and distract the creatures, and I would cripple their legs and arms before he made the killing blow. Morrigan let out a roar as she transformed into a huge black bear, snarling and leaping at the creatures, bowling them over with her huge paws and mauling them. My sword flickered with ethereal flame as we fought, but I ignored it – later, I would definitely need to figure out what was going on.

I heard a yelp behind me as Tomas was overwhelmed by one of the creatures – his crossbow had jammed up while reloading, and he bashed the creature over the head with a hammer from his belt as he staggered backwards, falling. The creature bit deep into his arm, and I ran over as the man cried out in pain, giving the creature a sharp kick to the face as it stood over him. The head detached itself and soared through the air, making a loud bang as it hit the Chantry door, and I thought I heard startled screams from inside.

"Sorry!" I shouted awkwardly, my voice drowned out by the clash of weapons and the cries of the creatures. I helped Tomas to his feet, and the man thanked me as I guarded him, waiting for him to reload before leaping back into the battle. The night dragged on, and I noticed that each wave of the creatures became a little smaller, until eventually, only scattered bunches of the undead remained, running at us mindlessly as they were cut down.

oooo

The last of the creatures fell just as the sun began to rise, and everyone stood panting for breath, looking around; not a single man had fallen to the undead. I sheathed my blade, wiping sweat from my brow and glancing up at Murdock, who looked back at me with bright, grateful eyes. The militia let out a deafening cheer, and I grinned, gladdened by their enthusiasm.

Leliana slid across the Chantry roof, climbing down to join us as Morrigan began passing out healing poultices, the pale, pink cream soothing most of the minor wounds the men had gotten. The two of us joined the dark-haired girl, cleaning and wrapping the men's injuries as they came over. Some of the men had been bitten and scratched by the undead, and Morrigan made a pale green solution that was supposed to disinfect the wounds; they complained that it burned and itched, but an impatient look from the dark-haired woman made them go quiet.

"Just be glad you're alive," I joked, dabbing a cloth soaked in the liquid gently across Tomas's injury, the man cringing and nodding as the wound itched. Villagers slowly started trickling out of the Chantry, looking around at the militia; women and children found their husbands and fathers, and the village commons hummed with activity as people gathered about.

I felt warmth go through me as people came up to us, thanking us sincerely – no humans had ever thanked me like this before. It was quite strange, and I allowed myself a small smile as I treated the militiamen's wounds. "What are you grinning about?" Leliana giggled, seeing the look on my face, and I smiled at her.

"Oh, nothing in particular. I suppose I'm just happy we're alive, after all that," I replied. I glanced over, watching Alistair as he helped some of the militia take down the barricades, looking over my shoulder as Bann Teagan joined us. He was watching Alistair with a strange look in his eyes; there was nostalgia – Alistair was his nephew, I supposed, and might have seen him quite a bit – but also regret. Washing over everything else, however, was relief, and the Bann looked at me, as if he needed to confirm that it was really Alistair. "Yes, that's him," I said softly, and Teagan let out a long sigh.

I watched from the corner of my eye as the man approached Alistair almost timidly, as if expecting him to not remember. Alistair looked at him for a few moments before a broad grin spread across his face, and he clasped the man's arm warmly. Teagan looked relieved at this, although he tried his best to hide it, and I smiled slightly as I continued tending the militiamen's wounds. My heart tightened, sending warmth through me as I saw Alistair's smiling face – I thought I'd be used to it by now with the constant laughing and jokes, but such a genuine smile like that sent my heart pounding. I noticed Leliana watching me, and she glanced away when I looked up, seeing the smug smile on her face.

oooo

Once the sun had risen, and the town square had been cleared out, Bann Teagan gathered all of the militiamen who fought last night, along with my group and the knights, in front of the Chantry. A crowd of thankful villagers stood before us, cheering and weeping tears of joy now that the night had gone, and we had won. "Dawn arrives, my friends, and all of us remain. We are victorious!" Bann Teagan's voice rose over the crowd, and they cheered. "And it is these good folk you see beside me that we have to thank for our lives today. Without their heroism, surely we would all have perished," he added, indicating us, along with the militia and knights.

Raucous applause greeted us as the grateful people watched us, their faces warm, glowing with joy. Bann Teagan turned to face me, addressing me directly. "I bow to you, dear lady. The Maker smiled on us when he sent you here in our darkest hour." He knelt before me, bowing his head low with respect. "Allow me to offer you this: the Helm of Ser Ferris the Red, my great-uncle and hero of Ferelden. He would approve passing it to one so worthy," he said, handing me the helmet.

It was a masterfully crafted red-steel helm, although it was a bit too heavy for me to wear, with a thin layer of padding on the inside so it wouldn't chaff around the ears and neck. I felt honored that Ban Teagan would give me such a gift, even if I couldn't really wear it. "I am honored, Bann Teagan, that you would bestow such a treasure upon me," I thanked him as he rose, accepting the helm.

"Take it, then, and use it in good health," he smiled warmly, turning his attention back to the crowd.

Mother Hannah stepped forth, the old priest raising her arms before her in prayer. "Let us bow our heads and give honor to those who gave their lives in defense of Redcliffe. Now they walk with He who is their Maker. Long may they know the peace of His love," Mother Hannah said, her voice ringing clear through the bright morning.

"So let it be," I heard Leliana murmur beside me, clasping her hands before her in prayer as she bowed her head.

"With the Maker's favor, the blow we delivered today is enough for me to enter the castle and seek out your Arl," Teagan continued. "Be wary and watch for signs of renewed attack. We shall return with news as soon as we are able," he said, and the villagers nodded in assent. The crowd began to disperse as people tended to the town; villagers and militiamen alike came up to my group, giving us their thanks and saluting us before returning to their duties.

Teagan came over to me, thanking me once more for helping the village. "Now, we've no time to waste. Meet me at the mill; we can talk further there," Teagan added, and I nodded, watching him go, following the narrow, winding path up the sheer cliffs. I gathered the others when we were ready, and we headed up the hill, meeting Teagan by the windmill.

oOo

Bann Teagan was gazing back up at the castle, his brow furrowed as he murmured quietly to himself. "Odd how quiet the castle looks from here. You would think there was nobody inside at all…" he trailed off, glancing back at the group as they approached.

Who would have thought such an odd band of people would come to rescue them in their darkest hour, he mused. They truly were a strange bunch – three humans, a Qunari and a wardog, all led by a fiery little Elf. No matter who they were, though, Teagan was immensely grateful for their aid. "But I shouldn't delay things further. I had a plan…to enter the castle after the village was secure," he said to Adeline as she joined him by the windmill, looking towards the Castle Redcliffe. "There is a secret passage here, in the mill, accessible only to my family," he explained, and Adeline made a small, surprised sound at the news.

 _Ah, right. In the dungeons,_ Alistair recalled, knowing the passageway that Teagan spoke of. Normally it was behind a barred door, and hidden behind a tapestry – he had found it once when exploring the dungeons as a child. Right before he had locked himself in a cage for an entire day; it was well past dinner before someone had come looking for him – most assumed he had been playing out in the village. When Teagan found him there, sitting in the cage with big eyes, the young man had laughed so hard that he could barely undo the locks. _Good times,_ Alistair thought wryly. _I wonder why no one's used it to escape the castle, though,_ he thought, glancing back towards the building as it rose over the lake, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

He was still getting an odd feeling from it – that taunting, crackling energy – but it was far more subdued than yesterday. _Hopefully that means whatever is reanimating the dead has been weakened, and that we're not walking into a trap,_ he thought, hoping for the former; while they had held their own against the undead, Alistair suspected that the castle would be guarded creatures more potent than the shambling corpses.

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?" Adeline asked, clearly puzzled by this development, and Teagan sighed.

"I wasn't sure we'd make it through the night. The village was my top priority, and I feared…" he paused, glancing back at a sound from further up the hill, his eyes widening in shock. "Maker's breath!" he gasped, and the group whirled around. A frantic, honey-haired woman was running down the hill, her hair hanging in a once neat bun, messy strands blowing wildly in the wind, her eyes bloodshot and strained. She had high, regal cheekbones, thin lips and a narrow nose – Arlessa Isolde. Alistair tensed as he saw the woman, his jaw tightening as he fought not to scowl.

"Teagan! Thank the Maker you yet live!" the woman wept, leaping into Teagan's arms and sobbing. She still had a very thick Orlesian accent, even after living in Ferelden for many years.

"Isolde! You're alive! How did you…? What has happened?" Teagan gripped her shoulders tightly, looking over his sister-in-law with concern.

"I do not have much time to explain! I slipped away from the castle as soon as I saw the battle was over, and I must return quickly," she gasped breathlessly, staring up at Teagan with pleading eyes. "I…need you to return with me, Teagan. _Alone_ ," she added, and Adeline looked at her carefully. Her clothes were messy and ragged, and one could almost taste the fear in the air, it was so intense.

"Bann Teagan, be careful. This might be a trap," Adeline cautioned, and the Arlessa looked over, just noticing the group now; she had been so preoccupied with Teagan that she hadn't even seen them until Adeline spoke.

"What? I…who is this _woman_ , Teagan?" the Arlessa asked, almost sneering as she looked at the Elf with disgust. Adeline clenched her jaw at the harsh words, and Alistair let out a sigh, stepping forward. _Right. I always remember how_ _ **pleasant**_ _she was around the Elves at the castle,_ he thought, trying to bring the woman's focus away from Adeline.

"You remember me, Lady Isolde, don't you?" Alistair asked, and the woman looked at him, giving him a withering glare. _Yep. She remembers,_ Alistair almost groaned, bracing himself.

"Alistair? Of all the…why are _you_ here?" Isolde asked harshly, and Alistair let out a quiet breath, trying to keep calm at the woman's tone. He glanced over to see Adeline's reaction…and began to wish he had never spoken; the Elf looked like she was about to bite the woman's head off. A small part of him appreciated her concern for him…but he was also worried about her temper.

"They are Grey Wardens, Isolde. I owe them my life," Teagan explained, his tone firm as he glanced at Alistair and Adeline, and Lady Isolde gave the group a small, apologetic nod.

"I…I would exchange pleasantries, but…considering the circumstances…" Isolde trailed off, looking back up at the castle.

"Please, Lady Isolde…we had no idea anyone was even _alive_ within the castle. We must have some answers!" Alistair spoke up, and Isolde looked at him sadly.

"I know you need more of an explanation, but I…don't know what is safe to _tell_. Teagan, there is a terrible evil within the castle. The dead waken and hunt the living. The mage responsible was caught, but still it continues," she explained, turning to look at Teagan.

"Mage?" Morrigan muttered softly, glaring up at the castle with interest now.

"And I think…Connor is going _mad_. We have survived but he won't flee the castle. He has seen so much death!" Isolde continued, her voice quavering with desperation. "You must help him, Teagan! You are his uncle. You could reason with him. I do not know what else to do!" Alistair didn't like the sound of that. And her words struck him as odd – Connor was only a young boy; couldn't they just carry him out of the castle if he refused? Although he supposed that in the Arl's condition, Isolde probably didn't want to leave Eamon. Still, Alistair had the feeling that the Arlessa wasn't telling the whole story.

"What of the Arl? Does he yet live?" Adeline asked, and Isolde nodded, tears filling her eyes.

"He does. He is being…kept alive so far, thank the Maker," she whispered, her shoulders shaking with fear.

"Kept alive? Kept alive by _what?_ " Teagan prompted, and Isolde shook her head, at a loss.

"Something the mage unleashed. So far it allows Eamon, Connor, and myself to live. The others…were not so fortunate. It's killed so many, and turned their bodies into walking nightmares! Once it was done with the castle, it struck the village!" the woman wept brokenly, and Adeline felt a tiny bit of sympathy for her. _But only a tiny bit,_ the girl thought bitterly, the sympathy getting swept away as she thought back on what Alistair had told her.

"So this…evil. You think it could be a demon?" Adeline asked, directing the question towards Morrigan, who crossed her arms, nodding.

"…indeed. I would need to see it myself, before I was certain, but to have the power to reanimate the dead… I believe it is a possibility we should not overlook," Morrigan replied. _That would make sense,_ Alistair thought, looking towards the castle, _it would also explain the weird feeling I'm getting. Although…it might not be a demon. It could be an abomination…_ Alistair tried to hope for the former, for if there _was_ an abomination, things would be significantly harder to sort out. _And what if Connor…no. Connor_ _ **couldn't**_ _have become the abomination. He…isn't a mage…right?_ Alistair crossed his arms. _Why's there a mage here, anyway?_

"Maker's mercy! Could it truly be a demon?" Isolde gasped, having heard Adeline and Morrigan's exchange. "I can't let it hurt my Connor! You must come back with me, Teagan! Please!" the woman wailed, and Teagan looked to the Elf for help.

"Why can only Teagan return with you?" Adeline asked quickly, and Isolde looked at her apologetically.

"For Connor's sake, I promised I would return quickly and only with Teagan," she replied, and Teagan looked up at the castle again. "Teagan, I do not have much time! What if it thinks I am betraying it?! It could kill Connor! Please come back with me…must I beg?" she pleaded, and Teagan let out a small sigh, nodding.

"The king is dead, and we need my brother now more than ever. I will return to the castle with you, Isolde," he promised, and Isolde's tears ran unchecked as she clasped her hands before her.

"Oh, thank the Maker! Bless you, Teagan! Bless you!" she breathed.

"We have little choice, it seems," Adeline sighed, looking up at Teagan with worry. "Lady Isolde, what can you tell me about this mage?" she asked, and the woman looked at her, wiping at her tears as she spoke.

"He is an…infiltrator, I think – one of the castle staff. We discovered he was poisoning my husband. That is why Eamon fell ill," she explained, and Adeline chewed her lip in thought, having expected something like this.

"Eamon was poisoned?!" Teagan exclaimed, and Isolde nodded sadly.

"He claims an agent of Teyrn Loghain's hired him. He may be lying, however, I cannot say," Isolde replied, glancing nervously up at the castle. _Ah. Loghain. So does that mean he…was planning this? All of this?_ Alistair wondered, looking at the windmill in thought. _I wouldn't put it past him at this point,_ he thought bitterly, looking back towards Adeline as she crossed her arms, looking at the Arlessa with a guarded expression.

"Why do I get the feeling you aren't telling us everything?" Adeline said suspiciously. _Oh dear,_ Alistair thought with dread, _is she actually_ _ **trying**_ _to start something?_ The woman glared down at Adeline as she spoke, her eyes narrowed in offense.

"I…I beg your pardon! That's a rather impertinent accusation!" the Arlessa retorted, and the Elf glowered at her, her eyes hardening at the woman's tone.

"Impertinent for an _Elf_ , you mean?" Adeline nearly snarled, and Isolde wavered at the sharp words. "And no, it is and entirely relevant question. If you're hiding something–" she stopped as Alistair lightly tapped her elbow with the back of his hand. The Elf fell silent, but continued to glare at the Arlessa with accusatory eyes.

"No! I did not mean…that is to say, I… Please, stop this!" Isolde gasped, her voice wobbling as her lips trembled. "An evil I cannot fathom holds my son and husband hostage! I came for help! What more do you want from me?" she cried, and Adeline sighed, shaking her head and not buying the woman's ignorant act.

"I have no illusions of dealing with this evil alone. You, on the other hand, have proven quite formidable, my lady," Teagan said, trying to steer the conversation away from the Arlessa. "Isolde, can you excuse us for a moment? We must confer in private before I return to the castle with you," he asked, and Isolde nodded, walking a little ways off.

"Please do not take too long! I will be by the bridge," she said, heading back.

Teagan came close to Adeline, speaking in a low, hurried tone. "Here's what I propose: I go in with Isolde and you enter the castle using the secret passage. My signet ring unlocks the door," he said, handing her the ring with his family crest on it. "Perhaps I will…distract whatever evil is inside and increase your chances of getting in unnoticed. What do you say?" he asked, and Adeline shook her head, gripping his hands tightly.

"I can't let you do this. It's too dangerous," she argued, and he sighed, looking at the girl earnestly.

"What choice do either of us have? If your business with Eamon is important, you're going to have to go inside to find him," Teagan replied, and she bit her lip, nodding reluctantly.

"He's right. Without Arl Eamon, we'll never get the support we need," Alistair added, and Adeline sighed, glancing at him worriedly.

"Ser Perth and his men can watch for danger at the castle entrance. If you can open the gates from within, they can move in and help you," Teagan continued. "If you choose not to go, then it's up to me to do what I can," he added quietly. "Whatever you do, Eamon is the priority here. If you have to, just get him out of there. Isolde, me, and anyone else…we're expendable," Teagan said, and Adeline shook her head quickly, staring at him.

"I don't believe that. I'll rescue you all; I promise," she said firmly, and Teagan smiled at her determined tone, his expression softening.

"You're a good woman. The Maker smiled on me indeed when He sent you to Redcliffe," he said. "But I can delay no longer. Allow me to bid you farewell…and good luck," the Bann nodded, giving them all a grateful nod before following Isolde.

"One fool plan on top of another," Sten muttered darkly behind Leliana, watching the man go. Adeline stood with the signet ring in her hand, running her fingers over the metal band with worry.

"I know…but it's the only way," Adeline murmured as she glanced up at Sten. "But there's definitely something Isolde isn't telling us," she added, crossing her arms and looking up towards the castle. "Alistair, can you…sense anything from the castle? Like magic or something?" she asked, looking at Alistair. _Ah, she wants to check if it's a demon or something?_ he assumed, nodding slightly.

"I _have_ been getting a strange feeling about the castle. I guess you could describe it as a crackling, dark energy," he replied, and Adeline pursed her lips, looking up at the castle and going over plans in her head. Her eyes moved down from the castle, lingering on the lake below, and then up the cliff side and back towards her companions.

"Alright. Everyone, here's the plan," she began, turning to face the group. "We're going to have to go in there quickly and quietly. Leliana, Morrigan, you're with me – we'll enter through the tunnel, and see if we can open the gates for everyone. Sten, Alistair, Olan, you go with Ser Perth and the knights, and join us at the gate."

"Very well," Sten said, understanding. Olan gave an affirmative bark, looking up at his master with bright eyes.

"Adeline, wait," Alistair stopped the girl as she opened the door to the windmill. She glanced up at him, knowing what he was going to say.

"Alistair–" she began, but he cut her off, holding a hand up for her to wait.

"I'm coming with you," Alistair said firmly, and Adeline furrowed her brow.

"I don't think–"

"I can nullify magic with my Templar talents, and I can go without armor, if it's too loud," Alistair added, interrupting her argument.

"I can go with the knights instead – he looks serious," Leliana offered, and Adeline glared at her, still not liking the idea.

"The last thing he needs right now is _encouragement_ ," she complained, and the girl rolled her eyes.

"Please. Arl Eamon is important to me," Alistair argued softly, placing a hand on Adeline's shoulder, his eyes pleading. She looked at his expression, letting out a soft groan and running a hand over her forehead.

"…very well," Adeline sighed, crossing her arms. "But make sure you keep it down – if you die in there, I'll kill you," she threatened, pointing sternly at him, and he smiled.

"Yes ma'am!" he saluted, grinning at the scowling Elf. _Aw, it's so sweet when she's concerned and threatening me at the same time,_ he thought with a smile.

"Lovely," Adeline snorted, shaking her head. They entered the mill, finding a small slot in the floor where the signet ring would fit and hearing a soft click as it unlocked a hidden door. Alistair slid into the tunnel, offering Adeline a hand and helping her down, taking the lead with a small lantern.

"A tunnel that goes under the entire lake? Who would build such a thing?" Morrigan asked incredulously as they entered the tunnel, peering intently into the darkness.

oOo

The long, deep tunnel stretched out into darkness, and I gave an involuntary shudder as we walked; thinking of the crushing weight of all the earth above my head made me feel immensely uncomfortable – at least in _Orzammar_ the tunnels were fairly large, with high ceilings. Morrigan and Alistair had to bend over so their heads didn't hit the ceiling – even _my_ head brushed the dirt tunnel's roof as we walked. I felt my heartbeat picking up as we went deeper underground, the stale air carrying the musty scent of dirt and dust.

We walked for a few minutes in the dark tunnel, our only light source the lantern Alistair held in front of him. Eventually, Alistair glanced back at us, nodding towards the tunnel further up. "I think we're almost there," he said – the air smelled a bit less musty as we continued. A few more minutes of walking, and we could see the shape of what looked like a tapestry, when Alistair held up the lantern.

We pushed aside the old cloth and came out into a large, stone room, the walls moldy and dripping water, with clusters of cobwebs hanging thickly on the ceiling. Stacks of old metal cages, barrels and wooden crates sat around the room – was this a storage room? "I locked myself in a cage, once, when I was a child. For an entire day. Ah, good times," Alistair sighed fondly, and I smiled up at him, rolling my eyes.

"Hello? Who's there? Is there anyone alive out there?" A thin, nervous voice called as we opened a door, seeing long rows of prison-cells down a narrow corridor. We approached the voice cautiously, looking into a cell near a set of stairs, leading up to the rest of castle. "Wait…you don't look like the Arlessa's guards. Are you from outside the castle?" the man asked, sitting weakly on a bench by the back of his cell.

He was a tall, gaunt young man, with black hair that hung loosely around his shoulders, and a thin, sallow face covered in patchy stubble. One of his eyes was partially shut, the skin around it swollen and purple from a large bruise, and he smelt faintly of burnt flesh. By the way his shoulders trembled at our approach, and the look of fear in his eyes, I could tell that this poor man had been tortured by his guards, perhaps more than once.

"We came through the tunnel," I answered, pointing with my thumb back over my shoulder. The man looked at me with wide eyes, standing and staggering over, placing his hands against the bars of the door as he craned his neck to look down the hall.

"There's a _tunnel?_ Then…why hasn't anyone in the castle _used_ it? We could all have escaped by now!" he said incredulously, staring back in the direction I had pointed.

"I had begun to wonder that myself," Morrigan replied, crossing her arms and looking at the prisoner closely.

"Hmm. Curious. None of this makes any sense…not that anyone cares much what _I_ think," the man muttered, returning his attention to me. "My name is Jowan. I'm a mage Lady Isolde hired to tutor her son, Connor. Until they, uh, threw me into the dungeon here," Jowan introduced himself, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Wait, why would they need a mage to tutor Connor?" I asked, glancing back at Alistair, who shrugged. He seemed to be thinking of something though, but before I could ask, Jowan continued his explanation.

"Lady Isolde was looking for a mage to tutor Connor, secretly. Teyrn Loghain found out and he…sent _me_. I was to use the opportunity to poison the Arl. I was told that Arl Eamon was a threat to Ferelden, that if I dealt with him Loghain would settle matters with the Circle," Jowan explained, and Alistair looked at him warily.

"Settle matters…? Wait, are you a maleficar?" he asked, and Jowan sighed, nodding weakly.

"Yes…I'm a blood mage," Jowan answered softly, and Morrigan's eyes widened.

"You? A blood mage? Truly? I would never have guessed," she said, genuinely surprised.

"I dabbled in the forbidden arts, and they condemned me to death for it. I thought Loghain was giving me a chance to… _redeem_ myself…" Jowan trailed off, looking back at me earnestly. "But he's abandoned me here, hasn't he? Everything's fallen apart, and I'm responsible! I have to make it right somehow, I _have_ to!"

"You…still haven't answered my original question," I reminded him, and he nodded.

"Right. I'm sorry," he apologized softly. "Connor had started to show… _signs_. Lady Isolde was terrified the Circle of Magi would take him away for training," Jowan explained, and Alistair looked at him with surprise.

"Connor? A mage? I can't believe it!" he exclaimed.

"She sought an apostate, a mage outside the Circle, to teach her son in secret so he could learn to hide his talent. Her husband had no idea," Jowan continued, and I nodded slowly.

"I see…" I murmured, thinking back on what Owen had said. _So maybe Valena's suspicions had a bit of substance to them after all._ "Were you the one who caused all of this? The undead?" I asked, waving a hand around, and Jowan shook his head frantically.

"No! I only learned about it when the Arlessa came down to question me. She…she had me tortured. She thought I'd summoned a demon to torment her family and destroy Redcliffe. I didn't, but there was nothing I could do or say that would appease her. So they…left me to rot," his voice caught in his throat, and I felt a twinge of pity for the man.

"Perhaps the boy summoned a demon accidentally?" Morrigan suggested, and Jowan glanced up at her, nodding.

"I thought that, too. Connor has little knowledge of magic, but he may have done something to tear open the Veil. With the Veil to the Fade torn, sprits and demons could infiltrate the castle. Powerful ones could kill, and create those walking corpses," Jowan theorized, and Morrigan nodded in agreement. _Oh great. Just what we needed. Demons,_ I thought with chagrin.

"And Arl Eamon knew _nothing_ of Connor's abilities?" Alistair asked, almost skeptically.

"No. The Arlessa was adamant that he never find out. She said that he'd do the right thing, send Connor to the Circle, even if it meant losing their son, and that infuriated her," Jowan answered. "I never meant for it to end like this. I _swear_. Let me help you fix this," the mage begged, looking at me with round, pleading eyes.

"I say this man could still be of use to us. But if not, then let him go. Why keep him prisoner here?" Morrigan argued, and I nodded, pulling the lock picks from my pouch.

"Hey, hey! Let's not forget he's a blood mage! You can't just…set a blood mage free!" Alistair exclaimed, raising his voice, and I glanced back at him.

"Better to slay him? Better to punish him for his choices? Is this Alistair who speaks or the Templar?" Morrigan hissed, her eyes narrowed challengingly. _Oh great. On top of all this, we're going to have them screaming at each other,_ I thought with chagrin, looking at Jowan helplessly.

"So you want to help us fix this?" I asked as the two argued behind me; I was surprised their shouting wasn't attracting the attention of whatever creatures were stalking the castle.

"Yes, if at all possible," Jowan replied, and I looked at him for a long time, searching deep in his eyes. He looked frightened and exhausted, strained both mentally and physically from torture and starvation, but deep down, I could see a spark of determination; there was still a small ember that refused to die out – he truly wanted to make things right.

" _I'd_ say it's common sense. We don't even know the whole story yet," Alistair finished, and Morrigan made an angry sound in her throat, throwing her hands in the air and giving up.

"I shall remember this the next time I am asked to tend your wounds," the woman threatened, and Alistair narrowed his eyes at her.

"You wouldn't dare," he growled, and she raised an eyebrow.

"I did not say t'would be lethal," she replied icily.

"If you try anyth–"

"Oh would you two just _shut up?_ " I shouted, whirling around with blazing eyes, and they went silent. "Maker's _breath_ you're acting like _children!_ " I exclaimed, my patience wearing thin. The two stared at me – they had never seen me lose my temper like this before. "If you two don't keep your mouths shut, I'm going to send you back up the tunnel and take the damned castle myself. _Don't test me_ ," I hissed. They were dead quiet; Morrigan glancing away with a small huff, and Alistair looking at me guiltily. "I _hate_ dealing with sodding…" I muttered under my breath, shaking my head and massaging my temples. I was tired, hungry, and starting to get a headache from lack of sleep – I _really_ didn't need them making a racket on top of all that.

"Give me a chance, please," Jowan asked, his voice pleading, and I sighed, returning my attention to the mage.

"So how will you make things right?" I asked, and I saw a bit of hope in Jowan's eyes – he was glad that I was at least _considering_ his words.

"I'd…well, I'd try to save anyone still up there. There must be _something_ I can do," he said, and I crossed my arms.

"And after that, what happens?" I prompted, and he sighed, placing his hands on the bars of his cell door.

"Afterwards?" Jowan murmured. "I assume I'll be arrested. Or executed. Or…whatever people like me get. But I'm tired of running from the Circle; I need to account for what I've done," he said firmly, and I nodded slightly.

"That's commendable, if it's true," I remarked, and the ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.

"I'm glad _you_ think so. So what now?" Jowan asked, and I closed my eyes for a moment, bracing myself for the others' reactions. Alistair was going to be pissed at what I was about to do, and Morrigan was more than likely going to add fuel to the flames.

"I'm letting you out of your cell. Don't try anything," I said, and Jowan's eyes lit up.

"You're letting me out? What then?" Jowan asked, stepping back as I worked on the lock.

"You come with me, that's what," I said, hearing the click of the lock and swinging open the door of the cell.

"I'm…not sure that's a good idea," Jowan said, knitting his fingers together nervously. "I'd like to help out, but…I'm not so sure I want to follow you into danger, exactly. Especially not in this state," he added, and I nodded, supposing that a starved mage probably would be more a liability than an asset in battle.

"Then help. Just don't make things worse," I said, and he nodded.

"I won't, I promise. I will find a way to fix this, somehow," Jowan replied, his voice grateful.

"Here, take this, and eat and drink very slowly. If you feel ill, stop and wait for the nausea to settle down," I added, handing Jowan the emergency rations I kept in my side-pouch and my water-skin. "Head back up that way until you've come up with something; there's a tunnel that goes under the lake and into the windmill by Redcliffe. I'm going to send out any other survivors we find, so just…hide in the windmill somewhere," I added, and the man nodded, running off.

Alistair stood behind me with an incredulous look on his face as he watched Jowan go. "Did you truly just…let him go? A dangerous blood mage?" he asked, staring at me.

"I'd rather let him go than leave him to rot. He looks like he's suffered enough," I answered calmly, and Alistair pursed his lips, letting out a small sigh.

"I suppose it's better than letting him die here," he agreed. "I just hope this doesn't come back to haunt us," he muttered.

"So shall we move on?" Morrigan piped up, and I nodded.

"Yes. Quietly as we can, now," I cautioned. We headed up the flight of twisting stairs, and I crouched by the top, poking my head out from behind the door and looking around cautiously.

oooo

We went through the halls silently; I checked each room as we passed for survivors, quickly and quietly taking out the shambling corpses before they could start shrieking. Morrigan stuck to casting ice-magic; it was less effective than fire would have been, but she could control the shape of the ice, and would freeze the creatures solid so that they made no sound. Alistair hung back at my instruction, keeping rear-guard in case any monsters should try to sneak up on us. I could tell he was still not happy with releasing Jowan, but I tucked the thoughts away – I couldn't deal with that right now.

Once we had cleared out much of this section of the castle, we headed quietly down a long hall. We walked cautiously to the end of the corridor as I searched for any signs of survivors, or of Teagan and Isolde. I opened the door of a small storage room, and a terrified girl screamed, cowering in the corner. "Please don't hurt me!" she squeaked, covering her head and falling backwards over some crates as she took a hurried step back.

"Shh!" I hushed her quickly, peeking back out into the hall. "Don't worry – we're here to help," I added gently, and the girl stared up at me with big, brown eyes.

"I…I'm sorry; I'm so frightened! These monsters are everywhere!" she whispered, taking my hand as I helped her to her feet. "My…my name's Valena, the Arlessa's maid. Is she…alright? What happened to everyone?" Valena asked, her brow furrowed with worry.

"Valena? Owen's daughter?" I asked, and she said yes. The others gave me an odd look, wondering how I knew her.

"You know my father? I want to go back to the village! Is there a way out of here?" Valena asked, and I nodded.

"There is a tunnel leading out in the dungeon," I explained, pointing back the way we came.

"But the m-monsters…" Valena stammered, shuddering.

"Don't worry – most of them are dead," I assured her, and she nodded quickly, setting her jaw in determination.

"Okay! I'll find my way. I can run fast and I know the castle. Thank you!" Valena whispered, giving a grateful curtsey before running back the way we came. I let out a sigh, glad that the girl was alive.

"Shall we continue?" I asked, and the others nodded, still looking curiously in the direction the girl had gone. I found a large door in the opposite room, but it was barred from the other side. Trying to break it down would make too much noise, so we continued on through the larder, heading to a basement storage room that had a second entrance out in the castle courtyard.

"Problem," Morrigan whispered, peeking up through the cellar door next to me. "There is a mage – a Revenant, in fact," she explained, pointing to a tall, robed creature wearing an elaborate headpiece, with a sword in one hand and a shield in the other.

"Nothing good, I take it?" I asked with a small sigh, watching the creature carefully – I could feel my saber trembling slightly, and a low hum was coming from the metal. _Does it…react to undead?_ I wondered, looking at the blade oddly.

"'Tis a powerful spirit; indeed, the demon that summoned it must be stronger still," Morrigan murmured, trying to keep her voice down as we observed the thing. It was surrounded by more of the walking corpses, some of them armed with swords and crossbows. A pair of skeletal archers stood up by the gates of the castle, looking about with hollow eye-sockets.

"If we were closer, I could nullify its powers, but then any spells _you_ cast will be dispersed as well," Alistair warned, and Morrigan nodded. Besides the mage and its small group of 'bodyguards', the courtyard was swarming with undead, the reeking creatures shambling about and moaning faintly, their arms hanging limp at their sides, or hanging loosely to their weapons.

"Alistair, I don't want you anywhere near that thing when you're so lightly armored," I said firmly, looking down at him from the top of the stairs. He made a face at me, but saw I wasn't going to let him argue about it, nodding curtly instead and remaining silent. "Ser Perth and his knights should be here by now. You know the layout of the castle – find wherever the lever that raises the gates is, and Morrigan and I will deal with the mage and undead. Once the gates are open, join in with the knights and the others," I said, and he nodded.

"As you wish," he replied.

Morrigan and I leapt out of the trapdoor, and she immediately threw a fireball across the courtyard, aiming for the mage. The spell exploded on impact, incinerating the corpses around with a shriek, the mage letting out a piercing wail as its robes caught on fire. I charged, roaring at the corpses as they rushed towards Morrigan, distracting them as she cast more spells at the Revenant. I swore as my feet were suddenly pulled out from under me, and I was dragged across the courtyard towards the mage. Alistair turned halfway to come help me, but I rolled quickly to my feet, blocking a swing of the Revenant's sword.

"Go for the gates!" I shouted, and he quickly turned the other way. Alistair ran for the gate-switch, tugging the lever and raising the gates; Ser Perth rallied his knights, and the men charged, helping us clear out the castle grounds, taking out the Revenant and other undead creatures. Leliana, Sten and Olan had come along as well, leaping into the fray along with the knights.

Once the fighting ended, Ser Perth walked over, raising a hand in greeting. "Shall we enter the main hall together? It must be held if we are to regain control of the castle," he asked, and I nodded, sheathing my blade. Leliana handed over Alistair's splint-mail cuirass, gauntlets, and greaves as she joined us, asking if we were alright. Alistair replied that we were all unharmed, quickly slipping the light mail and cuirass over his head, seeming relieved that he was armored again. We headed up to the main gate of the castle, bracing ourselves for what we would find inside.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	15. Chapter 15: Not Quite Right

Chapter 15: Not Quite Right

Disclaimer – I do not own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

We entered the main hall, the walls decorated with family portraits and tapestries. Up ahead, standing before a roaring fire, was Connor, laughing and clapping as Bann Teagan danced around the room like a jester, making flourishes with his hands and doing cartwheels, entertaining the small, copper-haired boy. Lady Isolde stood nearby, staring at the ground with a look of soundless horror on her face, her eyes wide and blank.

I stiffened as I saw the boy; _this isn't Connor_ , I thought, sensing that something was _very_ wrong with him. There were four guards standing by, their expressions dull, as if their minds had been broken – I supposed this was more than likely, if a demon had been taking control of them. Connor glanced up as we entered, and the small boy's face twisted in a sneer, waving a hand dismissively at Teagan. The Bann stopped dancing, giving a dramatic bow and sitting down by Connor's feet, a wide grin on his face as he laughed.

"So these are our visitors? The ones you told me about, Mother?" Connor asked contemptuously, looking at Isolde with disgust. His voice was low and angry, and I fought the urge to shiver – the voice had layers to it; beneath his, there was a deeper, rumbling voice that curled into my ears and made my skin crawl. I could feel the hair standing up on the back of my neck, but I kept my expression level as I looked at the possessed child. I grabbed the hilt of my sword – the saber was vibrating wildly in its sheath, as if it were trying to fly out, and I gritted my teeth as I kept it in place. _Alright. It's not just an undead-detecting blade; it's a_ _ **demon**_ _-detecting blade,_ I concluded.

"Y-yes, Connor," Isolde answered quietly, her head lowered and her eyes distraught.

"And this is the one who defeated my soldiers? The ones I sent to reclaim my village?" the boy asked, pointing at me, and Isolde nodded slowly.

"Yes," she answered.

"And now it's _staring_ at me! What is it, Mother? I can't see it well enough," the boy hissed, his brow furrowing as he squinted – his eyes looked clouded over and milky, as if he were going blind.

"This is an Elf, Connor," Isolde said softly. "You…you've seen Elves, before. We have them here in the castle…" the boy sneered, cutting her off with a harsh bark of laughter.

"Oh, I remember! I had their ears cut off and fed to the dogs! The dogs chewed for hours! Shall I send it to the kennels, Mother?" he jeered, and Isolde looked at him with tears in her eyes. I resisted the urge to put my hands on my ears, frightened by the intense malevolence coming off of the child, and Olan gave a low growl beside me, glaring at Connor. Morrigan was silent, but her eyes were narrowed as she watched the boy cautiously.

"C-Connor, I beg you, don't hurt anyone!" Isolde cried, and the boy's body shivered. He cringed, closing his eyes and gripping his head in his hands.

His eyes suddenly cleared, and he looked over at Isolde. "M-Mother? What…what's happening? Where am I?" the boy asked, his voice returning to normal as he looked around in confusion.

"Oh, thank the Maker! Connor! Connor, can you hear me?" Isolde gasped in relief, running over to her son and reaching out to touch his shoulder. The boy's body shuddered again, and his eyes misted over.

"Get away from me, fool woman! You are beginning to bore me," the voice was layered once more as he snarled at her, and Isolde flinched back, nearly falling over.

"Maker's breath! What has happened here?" Ser Perth exclaimed, hand flying to his blade as he watched what had just transpired.

"Grey Wardens…please don't hurt my son! He's not responsible for what he does!" Isolde wept, staring at us.

"So the boy has become an abomination and sundered the Veil?" Morrigan observed, crossing her arms.

"Connor didn't mean to do this! It was that mage, the one who poisoned Eamon – _he_ started all this! _He_ summoned this demon! Connor was just trying to help his father!" Isolde wailed as her shoulders shook, nearly hysterical.

"And made a deal with the demon to do so? Foolish child," Morrigan shook her head, looking at the boy as he glared at us.

"It was a fair deal!" he roared back in his two-toned voice. "Father is alive, just as I wanted. Now it's _my_ turn to sit on the throne and send out armies to conquer the world! Nobody tells me what to do anymore!"

"No-o-o-body tells him what to do! _No-o-o-body!_ Ha- _ha!_ " Teagan laughed madly from where he sat, and Connor growled, giving the Bann a vicious kick in the side.

" _Quiet_ , uncle! I _warned_ you what would happen if you kept shouting, didn't I? Yes, I did," the boy threatened, turning his attention back to me. "But let's keep things _civil_. This woman will have the audience she seeks. Tell us, _woman_...what have you come here for?"

I stared into the dull, misted eyes before me, crossing my arms and holding my gaze steady. "I came here to help, if I could," I replied levelly, and the boy scoffed.

"To help me? To help Father? To help yourself? Which?" he asked, almost innocently.

"To help the people you've terrorized," I said, and Connor made a face.

"I was just having fun! Everyone else had fun too! Are you having fun, Uncle?" the boy asked sweetly, looking down at Bann Teagan, who grinned madly up at him.

" _Maaaaaarmalade!_ " the man laughed, and Connor grinned cruelly, giving a harsh bark of laughter and looking back at me.

"You see? We're having fun! I think you're just trying to _spoil_ things. What do you think, Mother? _I_ think it's _threatening_ me," Connor said, glancing at Isolde.

"I…I don't think…"

"Of _course_ you don't! Ever since you sent the knights away, you do nothing but deprive me of my fun. Frankly, it's getting dull," the boy cut her off as she answered weakly, glowering at me. "I crave excitement! And action! This woman spoiled my sport by saving that stupid village, and now she'll repay me!"

Connor suddenly ran off, and Teagan stood, a blank, hypnotized look in his eyes as he drew his sword. The guards around the room charged at us, screaming, and I drew my own weapons, bracing myself for the attack. "They're being controlled! Try to subdue them without killing them!" I yelled over the noise, hoping the others had heard.

Teagan wielded his blade expertly, and I struggled to keep him back without causing undue harm. He was laughing madly, fencing with me as our blades met with light clicks – he seemed to be playing with me, knowing that I didn't want to hurt him. "Bann Teagan! Come to your senses!" I cried, but he couldn't seem to hear me, instead pressing at me even harder. I gasped in pain as he pushed past me, slashing at my face – I pulled back just in time, and he only nicked my right ear, leaving a small tear along the lobe, blood dripping distractingly along my jaw.

Teagan slid his rapier across my blade, tangling the tip of his sword in the basket hilt and wrenching it out of my grip, throwing the humming saber across the room. I leapt out of the way as he stabbed at me, sparks flying as his rapier scraped the wall with a terrible screech that made me cringe in pain. I drew the red-steel knife at my hip, holding it aloft and backing away from the man, trying to put some distance between us. "Teagan! It's me, Adeline! We helped you protect the village last night!" I shouted, backing off a bit, edging my way towards my saber.

The man didn't seem to hear me at all, and I took a step back, staggering under the force of his onslaught. _How can I snap him out of it?_ I wracked my mind for answers, yelping as his blade slid past my guard and wrenched my knife out of my fingers as well. Now I was unarmed, backed against the wall – the others saw but couldn't help; their weapons were locked against their own opponents. "Teagan! Think of your family! You brother, Eamon! Isolde and Connor! And Alistair!" I shouted, putting as much emotion into the words as I could.

Teagan shuddered and froze at my words, his mouth hanging open and his eyes glazing over – there seemed to be a faint shimmer and glow about his head before it dispersed, as if there had been a cloud covering his mind. He gripped his head in his hands, cringing and doubling over, a horrible scream tearing from his lips as he collapsed. The room went deadly silent as all of the guards froze, shuddering and collapsing as well as their eyes rolled back in their heads.

"Uh…what just happened?" Alistair asked, staring at the unconscious men with huge eyes and glancing at me, as if _I_ knew. I shrugged, just as confused as he was at this development.

"They have been released, somehow," Morrigan explained simply, brushing herself off and adjusting her shawl, looking at me oddly. Her eyes scanned over my face, spotting the red that dripped down my ear, and she walked over and placed a hand over it, murmuring a soft word. It burned and tingled for a moment before the pain vanished, the skin knitting itself back together.

"Thank you Morrigan," I smiled up at her, and she nodded, looking coolly away after she had checked me over quickly.

I knelt by Teagan as he gave a soft groan, helping the man into a sitting position. "Teagan! Teagan, are you all right?" Isolde dashed over, kneeling next to me and looking at Teagan with frantic eyes.

"I am…better now, I think. My mind is my own again," he sighed, massaging his temple and looking at me with a thankful expression.

"Blessed Andraste! I would never have forgiven myself had you died, not after I brought you here. What a fool I am!" Isolde gasped apologetically. "Please! Connor's not responsible for this! There must be some way we can save him!" she looked over at me pleadingly.

"You knew about this all along," I accused, and Isolde bit her lip.

"I…yes," she admitted, looking up at me guiltily. "I didn't tell you because I believed we could help him. I still do." As she spoke, I heard someone walking towards us, and I looked up, spotting Jowan hurrying over. _Oh_ _ **sod**_ _. He couldn't have had worse timing,_ I thought, seeing the flash of anger in Isolde's eyes as she saw him as well.

"I am sorry, my lady, but Connor has become an abomination. He's no longer your son," Jowan explained, and Isolde stared up at him with fury in her eyes.

"You! _You_ did this to Connor!" she shouted.

"I didn't! I didn't summon any demon, I told you! Please, if you'll let me help…" Jowan trailed off weakly, his shoulders tensing at the woman's screaming.

" _Help!?_ You _betrayed_ me! I brought you here to help my son and in return you poisoned my husband!" she shrieked, and I cringed as her voice rose in volume.

"This is the mage you spoke of? Didn't you say he was in the dungeon?" Teagan asked, looking up at Jowan and then back at Isolde.

"He was. I assumed the creatures had killed him by now. He must have been set free," Isolde replied, looking at me accusingly.

"He's no more to blame than you are, Lady Isolde," I growled, narrowing my eyes at the woman, and she gasped at my words.

"How _dare_ you! If this man hadn't poisoned my husband, none of this would have happened! He should be executed!" she screeched, and I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Flaming mother of _Andraste_. This is why I _hate_ people…" I muttered through clenched teeth, taking slow, deep breaths as I controlled the urge to punch Isolde in the face.

"Your secrecy made his actions possible, Isolde," Teagan said carefully to the woman, seeing my barely controlled fury.

"But I…" Isolde trailed off, looking down.

"I know…what you must think of me, my lady. I took advantage of your fear. I am sorry. I…never knew it would come to this," Jowan said quietly, his eyes sad.

"Well, I shan't turn away his help. Not yet. And if Connor is truly an abomination–" Teagan began, but Isolde cut him off.

"He is not always the demon you saw. Connor is still inside him, and sometimes he breaks through. Please, I just want to protect him!" Isolde argued, and Teagan scowled at her as I helped him to his feet, letting him lean against my shoulder for support.

"Isn't that what _started_ this? You hired the mage to teach Connor in secret, to _protect_ him," Teagan said, looking at the woman crossly.

"If they discovered Connor had magic, then they'd take him away! I thought if he learned just enough to hide it, then…" Isolde trailed off, staring at the ground in shame.

"What are our options?" I asked, glancing around. Morrigan was standing off to the side, thinking deeply, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly at my words. Alistair walked over to us, looking at Isolde sadly.

"I wouldn't normally suggest slaying a child, but…he's an abomination. I'm not sure there's any choice," he murmured. "Lady Isolde…I know you fear for your son, but look at what's happened," Alistair sighed.

"Can we do nothing else?" she pleaded. Morrigan let out a soft breath, opening her eyes and walking slowly over.

"Killing the child _is_ the quickest course, but to say there is nothing else possible would be a lie. We can confront the demon in the Fade, though not easily," Morrigan began.

"What do you mean? The demon is within Connor, is it not?" Teagan asked, confused.

"No, _it_ lies in the Fade and controls the boy from there. We can follow that connection, however, and do battle with its true form," Morrigan explained, and Lady Isolde looked at her with hope in her red eyes.

"So you can enter the Fade? And kill the demon without hurting my boy?" she asked, clasping her hands together.

" _Possible_ to, yes. _Able_ to, perhaps not. Entering the Fade requires lyrium as well as numerous mages to perform the ritual," Morrigan said, and Lady Isolde's eyes fell.

"Neither of which we have," she sighed. "I…understand. Can we do nothing else?" the woman asked, looking around.

"I…there _must_ be another way – I couldn't bring myself to kill a child," I replied, my heart hurting at the thought. "Jowan, do you have any ideas?" I asked, and the mage crossed his arms, closing his eyes and letting out a long sigh.

"There is…another option, though I…loathe offering it. What your friend says is true; a mage could confront the demon in the Fade, without hurting Connor himself," Jowan began.

"Yes, we heard about this already. The ritual requires things we do not have, such as lyrium," Isolde said impatiently, and Jowan bit his lip.

"To generate the power needed, yes. But I have…blood magic," he said softly.

"Wait…but blood magic…uses the life force of others as raw mana," Alistair said, and I saw his shoulders stiffen as Jowan nodded.

"Yes, that's right. The ritual I know…it requires life energy – a lot of it. _All_ of it, in fact…" he trailed off.

"So…someone must die? Someone must be sacrificed?" Teagan asked, a somber air hanging about the room as the gravity of the situation sank in.

"Yes, and then we send another mage into the Fade. I can't enter because I'm doing the ritual. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. It's…not much of an option…" Jowan murmured nervously, fidgeting about.

"No. It's not an option at all," I said firmly, and Jowan flinched.

"I…I understand. I just…" he mumbled, staring at the ground.

"I disagree. I think we should do it. Let it be my blood – I will be the sacrifice," Isolde argued, and we all stared at the woman with wide eyes.

"What? Isolde, are you mad!? Eamon would never allow this!" Teagan exclaimed, and Isolde shook her head.

"Either someone kills my son to destroy that thing inside him or I give my life so my son can live. To me, the answer is clear," Isolde retorted.

"Blood magic. How can more evil be of any help here? Two wrongs don't make a right," Alistair muttered, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

"But it _does_ seem like a sensible choice, with a willing participant," Morrigan argued.

"Connor is blameless in this. He should not have to pay the price," Isolde said.

"It…it's up to you, my friend. You know more about such things than I do, and it's your companion going into the Fade. The decision is yours," Teagan said, looking to me.

"There _must_ be another way to enter the Fade," I said; while I didn't like Isolde at all, I wasn't about to let her kill herself if it could be avoided.

"You can find lyrium and more mages at the Circle of Magi – _if_ they would even do it," Alistair suggested.

"The Circle tower isn't far from here," I added, looking up at him, my eyes lighting up at his words.

"That is an excellent point. One of the treaties is also for the Circle of Magi, after all," he replied.

"The tower is a few weeks journey around the lake, on foot. You could attempt to get the mages' help," Teagan said.

"But what will happen here? Connor will not remain passive forever!" Isolde argued.

"The boy has been weakened by the loss of his undead army. A powerful demon, such as the one that is controlling him, will not make a foolish move and risk its host being destroyed," Morrigan replied.

"So we have time?" I asked, and she nodded.

"However, I suggest we move quickly, before the demon can regain its strength," she replied.

"Are there any boats we can use? To cut across the lake?" I asked, and Teagan shook his head.

"I'm afraid not – any who _had_ boats fled when the undead first attacked, and any boats that remain are in disrepair," Teagan sighed.

"We'll need to set out soon, then," I said, and the others nodded.

"Very well. I will keep Jowan here as a precaution. He says he wants to help, so he will keep an eye on Connor with us," Teagan began and I shook my head.

"Ah, no, you won't," I said, and the Bann raised an eyebrow at my tone. "I'm not going to leave him in the clutches of that… _woman,_ " I said, lacing the word with as much contempt as I could without actually saying 'bitch'.

"But he is a blood mage–"

"Who owes me his life. He won't try anything," I added firmly, looking to Jowan, who nodded quickly.

"My lady, I ask you to please consider…" Teagan urged, and I crossed my arms.

"Bann Teagan," I said, stopping him. "If I leave here, Jowan will be put back in the dungeon. The man can barely stand right now – he will die if I let him stay," I began, indicating Jowan's frail frame. "With me, he will do more good than rotting away in a cell. If he tries anything, blood magic or no, I will kill him, and I will show no mercy." Jowan stiffened at my words. "Remember, Alistair is a Templar – Jowan won't try anything if he values his life," I added. Teagan looked at me for a long time, letting out a sigh and shaking his head helplessly.

"Very well, my lady. I can see that you will not be convinced otherwise," he relented, and I smiled charmingly at the man.

As Isolde continued to apologize to Teagan, I wandered off, looking into the next hall, where large suits of armor sat in each corner of the room. Alistair was helping shift them around with Ser Perth and his knights, piling any large furniture that they could find in front of the stairway that Connor had fled up, trying to block it should the boy attempt another attack. Sten was watching Jowan with piercing eyes, and the mage shuddered, trying to focus his attention on Leliana as the cheery girl introduced herself.

I walked into Arl Eamon's study, looking around at the rows of books that lined the walls. I glanced down as I saw something glimmer on the Arl's desk, finding an amulet there, among the papers. My heart leapt into my throat – this was the amulet that Alistair had once described. It was riddled with cracks, and someone with much patience had painstakingly pieced it back together. I picked it up with gentle fingers, a smile spreading across my lips. I tucked it into my pocket, planning to surprise Alistair with it later.

oooo

Our group spent the next day around Redcliffe, checking for news from Denerim about Loghain, or word from the south about the darkspawn. Once word that the undead problem had been taken care of had gotten out, the entire village seemed to breathe a sigh of relief; people looked a little less ragged and frightened, and there were actually children running about, laughing and playing.

"Here, hold still," I said to Jowan as he sat on a chair outside of the abandoned house our group had been staying in. He had cleaned himself up as much as he could – he had washed in the nearby river, scraping off weeks of filth from the dungeon, and I had bought him some simple traveling clothes. They weren't robes, like he was used to wearing, but they were warm and clean. Unfortunately, they also showed how painfully thin he was – the poor man was nearly a walking skeleton, and the clothes hung off him baggily, making him look like a scarecrow.

"Sorry," Jowan apologized awkwardly, looking down.

"No, look here," I said, taking his chin gently and facing him towards me. I ran the comb through his hair and trimmed the ragged ends with a pair of small scissors until he looked at least half-decent, pulling the hair back into a low wolf-tail, a few strands hanging loose over his forehead. "Sorry I'm not much of a barber," I smiled guiltily, holding up a hand-mirror and showing him. Jowan nodded slightly, thanking me gratefully. "I mean, Alistair lets me cut his hair, but I just don't think he trusts Morrigan with scissors near his face," I added with a chuckle.

"No, it's nice," Jowan replied. "But I think I'll need to shave as well," he remarked, running a hand over his stubbled jaw, and I looked over him with a critical eye.

"Shave…but keep the goatee. The look suits you," I said, and Jowan looked up at me with big eyes, blushing slightly.

"Um…thank you," he mumbled, and I smiled.

"You don't need to be nervous Jowan. As long as you don't try anything – which I know you won't – you'll be perfectly safe," I promised, and he nodded a bit, a tiny, nervous smile on his face as he looked at me. "Anyway, you finish up with shaving – I'm going to run down to the village for something. Oh, and stick with Leliana or Olan. Don't let Sten catch you alone…or Alistair. He's still mad at me, I think," I added, and Jowan bit his lip.

"Is he really a Templar?" he asked, and I nodded, noticing the fear in his eyes at the mention of Templars.

"…yes, but he's not…he's not the type to hurt someone without reason," I replied carefully. This didn't seem to reassure him much, but Jowan gave a small nod.

"So…I noticed you didn't mention Morrigan," Jowan remarked, and I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, she'll probably just ignore you. Until she decides to use you for something," I said, smiling and heading off.

oOo

Jowan watched Adeline head down the hill with a small smile. The Elf was kind to him, kinder than anyone had ever been. Well…besides Lily and Selina, but one was probably in Aeonar, and the other was… Maker, Jowan didn't even want to think what happened to Selina; he knew that his actions back at the tower had condemned her to death, or worse…Tranquility. The thought of such a fate made him shiver, and he shut his eyes.

"Feeling chilly? Who'd have thought, after such a warm reception," a cool voice spoke up from behind him, layered with sarcasm, and Jowan glanced up to see Alistair walking towards him. _Oh Maker, the Templar,_ he thought in panic, standing hurriedly and taking a few steps back.

"Uh…no…" the mage mumbled nervously, glancing around and almost praying for Adeline to come back. Alistair watched Jowan carefully, crossing his arms and walking in a slow circle around the frightened mage. _He's still very weak from imprisonment,_ Alistair observed. While he felt a bit of pity for the man, he also knew that he was a maleficar – blood magic changed people, twisted their minds and corrupted them.

"You know I'm a Templar," Alistair remarked; it was more of a statement – a threat, even – than a question, and Jowan nodded slowly. "Then you know what will happen if you try anything."

"I…yes," Jowan whispered, looking at the ground. "But I promise you, I'll never hurt any of you. I want to fix things, I swear!" Jowan pleaded, and Alistair narrowed his eyes.

"I…question Adeline's reasons for keeping you, but I won't go against her orders," Alistair said. His voice dropped to a threatening growl as he stalked over to Jowan, "but if you _ever_ try to hurt her, I _will_ kill you. Do you understand?" Jowan was silent in fear, but he nodded quickly, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head. "Good," Alistair said, his tone slightly friendlier. "Now, go find Leliana or Olan. I wouldn't want to be alone with Sten if I were you – I don't think he likes mages much," he added, returning to the house.

Jowan let out a long breath, sinking into the grass – his legs felt like jelly, they were shaking so hard, and he shut his eyes. _Maker's breath, that was terrifying,_ he thought. He took a few deep breaths, calming himself down and walking back towards the river to shave.

oOo

I went to check on Owen and Valena, wanting to make sure that the girl had returned home safely. "My Valena returned! She told me of your daring rescue. I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am," Owen said, shaking my hands warmly. His eyes were clear, and his breath wasn't tinged with the stink of alcohol – he had cleaned up considerably since yesterday. "Take this…a reward for your deed. It's Dwarven made, and should serve you well," Owen said, handing me a large wooden box. A full set of finely crafted Dwarven armor was inside, and I whistled appreciatively.

"Very nice," I replied; _I_ couldn't wear this, of course, but maybe it would be useful later on. _We_ _ **are**_ _going to Orzammar one of these days; maybe I can present it as a gift to King Endrin, to gain his favor?_ "Thank you – that's very generous of you," I added, and Owen smiled.

"Thank you again! I'm forever in your debt," the blacksmith said, shaking my hand again.

I stopped by my tavern on the way back up the hill, checking in on Lloyd and Bella. "Hello again, boss. Nice to see you're safe," Bella greeted, and I smiled at her.

"You know…I think I'll put _you_ in charge of the place while I'm gone – I'm going to be doing a lot of traveling, and I think this place needs a fresh face at the helm," I said, and Bella's eyes lit up.

"Really? Hah! Lloyd'll _love_ that," she grinned wickedly.

"So how is the tavern running?" I asked, and she shrugged, still smiling crookedly.

"Fair enough now that the fighting's over. Some men come to celebrate…most come to forget," she replied with a shrug. "It will take months to get the stock back to normal and start turning a profit, but I think it's possible," she added, crossing her arms and nodding back towards the storage room. "I found Lloyd's hidden stash of coin. I suppose it's yours, since the inn belongs to you. It's several hundred silvers at least."

"Put it back into the tavern – it'll do more good here," I replied, and she nodded.

"Fair enough. Things will go a bit quicker here, I guess," Bella said. "I'll run your tavern honestly, and it'll be in good shape when you return. Until then, I guess drinks are on you?" she added, and I laughed.

"Indeed," I smiled.

"The village is having a bit of a celebration here tonight, in honor of the militia, and your friends," Bella said, and I chuckled.

"Hmm…I think I need something like that, after all this madness," I sighed with a weak smile, bidding her good day. I headed up to the mill, putting down the box of armor and letting out a sigh, out of breath; the box was quite heavy, and my calves burned from walking up the steep hillside with the weight. I rested for a minute, massaging my calves before continuing on, heading to the farmhouse by the bridge.

"What've you got there?" Alistair asked curiously as I came in. I let out a gasp as I set the box on the table, slumping into one of the chairs and catching my breath.

"Hmm? Oh, this is some Dwarven armor," I answered. "Long story," I added as I saw his confused look. "Where are the others?" I glanced around, and he shrugged.

"I didn't ask. I think Leliana went down to the Chantry to help clean up a bit, but I don't know where Sten and Morrigan have gone. Jowan's probably still by the river, and Olan's sleeping over there," he replied, pointing to the corner of the room, where the mabari was curled up on a blanket.

"Are you…mad at me?" I asked softly, and Alistair looked at me. He let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair.

"I'm still wondering what made you decide to take the blood mage along…but no, I'm not mad at you," he replied gently. "Might I ask _why_ you made that decision?" he added, and I folding my hands on my lap.

"I wasn't going to let him die," I said firmly, and Alistair shook his head.

"He would have been held–"

"In the cell. Where he would have either starved to death, been tortured to death, or have been executed," I said, cutting him off. "Let me ask you, Alistair," I murmured, a hint of ice creeping into my tone, "have you ever been imprisoned before?" Alistair was silent, but he watched me carefully. "Have you sat in a cell, wondering whether you were going to die there, slowly, rotting away? Or if the guards were going to…have their way with you before your execution?" I asked, and Alistair's eyelids flickered slightly at my words. "Jowan has suffered for his misdeeds – I will not say whether justice has been done, because it isn't my place to say. What I _will_ say, however, is that he truly wants to help us, and that his talents will be put to far better use with us than in a jail cell."

"Those talents being blood magic, and Maker knows what else," Alistair snorted, and I rolled my eyes, sensing that the tension had passed.

"We keep Morrigan with us, don't we? And she's a far nastier apostate than Jowan," I argued. He didn't look convinced, though, and I sighed. "I'm sorry you don't like it, Alistair, but I can't just sit by and let him die like that – not when he truly wants to make up for what he's done," I said softly, looking at the ground.

"You know…" Alistair began, and I glanced up, "while I'm still unsure about him, I'll…trust your judgment. But if he tries anything, I don't care what you say – I'm going to strike him down," Alistair added, his tone firm, and I nodded.

"Fair enough," I replied. I stood, walking over to the fire and setting a kettle of tea over the flames, kneeling and warming my hands. "I still can't get over how cold southern Ferelden is," I sighed, sitting by the fire. "The Alienage is close to the docks, so the weather is much milder–"

My words were cut off as a blanket was dropped on my head, and I laughed, pulling it down and wrapping it around my shoulders. "Better?" Alistair asked, sitting next to me, and I smiled slightly.

"Yes, thank you," I replied, looking into the flames. I stood after a while as the teapot began to steam, and I poured out a cup of tea for each of us, returning to my spot by the fire and taking a sip, cringing slightly as I scalded my tongue.

"Careful, it's hot," Alistair teased, and I rolled my eyes.

"No, really?" I replied, blowing on the tea before gingerly taking another sip. "Hm, I imagine it'll take Redcliffe a while to rebuild," I sighed, looking down at the teacup as it warmed my hands. "Oh!" I said suddenly, and Alistair glanced at me.

"What is it?" Alistair asked, and I smiled.

"Close your eyes," I said, setting down my teacup on the edge of the hearth.

"…why?" he asked as he did the same, suddenly wary as he saw the smirk on my face.

"Oh just do it already," I replied, and he closed his eyes. I reached into my pocket, taking his mother's amulet out and placing it lightly around his neck. "Alright, you can look now," I said, and he glanced down at the amulet that rested on his collarbone. His face turned pale, and he stared at me as I sat next to him.

"This…this is my mother's amulet. It has to be. But why isn't it broken? Where did you find it?" Alistair asked quietly, his fingers trembling slightly as he looked at the necklace, fingering the small cracks that ran across the amulet's surface.

"I found it in the castle, in the Arl's study," I replied.

"Oh. The Arl's study? Then he must have…found the amulet after I threw it at the wall," he murmured. "And he repaired it and kept it? I don't understand, why would he do that?" Alistair asked, taken aback. I smiled, wrapping the blanket tighter around my shoulders.

"Maybe he meant to give it back to you," I suggested, and Alistair shrugged.

"Maybe he did. He might even have brought it with him one of those times he came to see me at the monastery… Not that I would have given him a chance, as belligerent as I was to him," he sighed, looking at me with a soft smile. "Thank you. I mean it. I…thought I'd lost this to my own stupidity," he added. "I'll need to talk to him about this. If he recovers from his… _when_ he recovers, that is. I wish I'd had this a long time ago," Alistair sighed, fingering the amulet lightly. "Did you…remember me mentioning it?" he asked. "Wow. I'm more used to people not really listening when I go on about things." He looked back at me, his eyes warm as I smiled at him.

"Of course I remembered. You're special to me," I replied, reaching out and taking one of his hands.

"Is this the part where the music starts and we begin dancing? Because I'm game. Where's the minstrels?" Alistair joked, his eyes shining. He glanced down at our hands, and he smiled, suddenly pulling me into a tight hug. "Thank you," he breathed, and I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around his neck as he hugged me, smiling as well as I rested my cheek against his shoulder.

oooo

I found Leliana later, by the Chantry, and we talked for a bit as we walked down by the lake's shore, the water shining orange and yellow as the sun set in the distance. I had ordered Olan not to leave Jowan's side while we were gone; I didn't think Alistair or Sten were going to do anything, but it was just to be safe. "Why did you decide to come to Ferelden?" I asked Leliana as we walked. Her hair burned bright like polished copper in the sunset, and her eyes were crystal blue as she gazed back at me.

"My mother was from Denerim, and I consider myself a Fereldan," she explained. "Mother served an Orlesian noblewoman who lived here when Orlais ruled. When Orlais was defeated and the common folk began to resent the presence of any Orlesian, the lady returned to Orlais. She took my mother with her. I was born in Orlais, and did not set foot in Ferelden till much later. Mother was always telling me stories of her homeland; I think she missed it," Leliana said, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Why did she leave Ferelden then?" I wondered.

"She had served Cecilie – the Lady Cecilie – for many years, and was loyal to her. Cecilie was a good person; she was always kind to me," Leliana replied. "Mother died when I was very young. Lady Cecilie let me stay with her – I had no one else. She was quite old then, and she had me study music and dance to entertain her," she continued, and I nodded, listening intently. "It is unfair, that I have more memories of Cecilie than my mother," she added with a small sigh.

"You were young, it's understandable," I assured her, and she gave a weak shrug.

"Strangely, the only thing I really remember of Mother was her scent," Leliana said. "She kept dried flowers in her closet, amongst her clothes; small, white Fereldan wildflowers with a sweet fragrance. Mother called them Andraste's Grace. They were very rare in Orlais," she described. _Wait…didn't I see some flowers like that around here? Where was it…?_ I thought, trying to remember where I had seen them.

As we returned to the hilltop, I found Jowan sitting on the grass outside with Olan. The man was…making a stick levitate, I thought, and he raised a hand, twirling the stick in the air and pointing. The branch flew off a short way, and Olan barked, chasing after it. I smiled as I watched them, but Jowan stopped as he spotted Leliana and my approach. Olan trotted over with the branch in his mouth, prodding at Jowan's leg, but the man looked nervously at the ground.

"Uh, I'm sorry. I know you're not supposed to play with wardogs, but…"

"I don't see any problem," I remarked, and Jowan looked up at me as I walked over. I sat down in the grass next to him, and Leliana raised an eyebrow at me. "It looked like you were having fun; it's nice to see that you can still smile after such an ordeal," I added.

"I…um… I was practicing a telekinesis spell," Jowan explained. Leliana saw that I was content to sit and talk, so she shrugged, returning to the house without me.

"Are you very good with magic?" I asked curiously; the subject had always fascinated me. Jowan looked suddenly nervous at the spark of interest in my eyes, awkwardly fingering the edge of the branch. Olan whined, looking at him with watery eyes, and I smiled. "Feel free to continue. I don't mind, really," I said, and Jowan nodded slightly, tossing the stick in the air above his head. It hovered there, and he spun it before launching the branch across the grass, Olan barking and chasing after it.

"I…always had a hard time with magic, honestly," Jowan began, keeping his eyes focused on the branch. "That was the...reason I turned to blood magic in the first place – I thought it would…give my magic a boost," he added. "The thing at the tower…well, when an apprentice is considered ready to become a full-fledged mage, they have to take a test, called the Harrowing," Jowan explained.

"What sort of test is this Harrowing? Is it skill-based?" I wondered; if it was, I supposed I could understand if he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to take it.

"Um…sort of. Normally it's a secret, but a friend of mine…well, my _only_ friend, Selina, took it and became a mage. I convinced her to tell me what it was like – she said that she was forced to battle a demon in the Fade to prove that she could resist, should a demon try to possess her," he explained, and my eyes widened in surprise.

"What? That's…that's horrible! Why would they _force_ a demon into someone like that? Maker's breath, I can't even imagine…" I gasped, staring at him; after what we had seen happen to Connor – an unfortunate accident – I really couldn't believe that the Circle would _willingly_ submit mages to that sort of thing. Jowan seemed at first surprised by my outburst, and then smiled a bit.

"That was my reaction too, at first," he admitted. "I… _suppose_ it makes sense – the Templars want to make sure you're not a danger – but…possessions actually aren't as common as most people are led to believe. I think most mages are actually only exposed to demons _because_ of the Harrowing," he added, quietly, and I frowned.

"How cruel…" I murmured. "So did you…take the Harrowing?" I asked, but Jowan shook his head.

"No, as I said, I always had trouble with magic. I…well, after spending so much time in the cell in the castle, I realized what my problem was – I was always trying too hard. You can't _force_ magic, you need to let it flow in and around you. Funny, but if I had realized that in the first place, I wouldn't have turned to blood magic, and none of this would have happened," Jowan sighed, running a hand through his hair and looking down with regret.

"The past is the past," I said simply, and he glanced at me. "There's nothing you can do to change it, so you shouldn't beat yourself up over it. Learn from it, but don't let it drag you down," I advised, and Jowan smiled slightly.

"You sound just like Selina when you talk like that," he smiled, and I laughed.

"Then she must have been a very wise person," I replied cheekily, and Jowan chuckled at my cocky attitude. "But please, don't let me interrupt," I added, and Jowan nodded.

"Alright, where was I…?" he thought. "Ah, yes, the Harrowing. So the day after Selina passed her Harrowing, my…friend, Lily, found out that Irving, the First Enchanter, wasn't going to let me take _my_ Harrowing," he said, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Wait, I thought you said Selina was our only…oh," I said, realizing what he meant by 'friend'. "I wasn't aware mages were allowed relationships like that," I added, and Jowan shrugged.

"No, normally we're not. It doesn't stop some from seeking…companionship. My…my case was worse than most, though," he sighed, and I cocked my head, wondering why. "Lily was…an initiate. Not a mage," he explained, and my eyes widened.

"Oh. That's…unusual," I remarked, surprised that an initiate would do such a thing when the Chantry was always going on about the evils of magic. "Uh! Not that it's bad or anything!" I added quickly as I saw Jowan's slightly disappointed look. "Er, well I guess that it _is_ by the…the Chantry's standpoint, but you can't help who you fall in _love_ with," I amended awkwardly, realizing that it actually sounded worse when I put it that way. "Oh Maker, I sound like a complete imbecile," I groaned, looking at Jowan apologetically.

"No, I understand what you mean," Jowan said with a grin; he looked like he was trying not to laugh at my fumbled words. "Well, Lily told me that she had seen a form giving permission to invoke the Right of Tranquility on the Knight-Commander's desk, and that Irving had signed it."

"Sorry for all the interruptions," I apologized, "but I'm not sure I follow."

"The Right of Tranquility is an alternative to the Harrowing; a Tranquil mage has their connection to the Fade cut off, but it also turns them into…well, a walking corpse, basically. You're moving and breathing, but not really living – an emotionless husk of your former self," Jowan explained, and I shuddered at the thought. "It's used on apprentices who don't want to take the Harrowing, or that the Templars fear are too weak to resist a demon. It's…also forced on those they think would be too dangerous as mages," he added. "A rumor had gotten out that I was a blood mage. Well…I suppose that was true, but neither Lily nor Selina knew that," Jowan sighed, his eyes filled with regret.

"So what happened?" I asked softly, seeing the pain on his face. Jowan had stopped throwing the stick for Olan by now, and was looking down at his hands. I noticed now that along his right palm was a narrow scar, and when he turned it over, the scar was mirrored on the back of his hand – it was as if he had stabbed clean through his hand with a knife. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if bracing himself for the memory.

"I convinced the two to help me break into the repository, where the apprentices' phylacteries are kept. That's blood taken from an apprentice, and treated with magic so that it can be used to track them if they go apostate," he added, seeing my confused look. "We managed to destroy my phylactery, but when we came out of the repository, Knight-Commander Greagoir and Irving were waiting for us with a group of Templars. They said they were going to imprison Lily and I…lost it," he whispered, shame in his voice. "I attacked them with blood magic – it was a powerful spell, but it was only meant to incapacitate, not to kill. I asked Lily to escape with me but she… When she saw that I was a blood mage, she said that she didn't know me, and refused to look at me," he murmured, covering his face with his hands.

"What about your friend? Selina?" I asked, and he sighed.

"I asked her to come with me, escape the punishment that inevitably waited…but she refused. She said that her phylactery had been sent to Denerim already, and that if we escaped together, the Templars would track us down too easily. She stayed behind and promised to hold off anyone that came after me so that I could escape," he murmured.

"She…sacrificed herself?" I asked softly, and he nodded sadly.

"Yes. And a fine job I've done with the freedom she's given me; tracked down so easily by the Templars even _without_ a phylactery, captured and brought to Denerim…" he ran a hand over his forehead. "When I waited execution there, a man came to see me; Teyrn Loghain – I had seen paintings of him, so I knew who he was right away," Jowan continued. "He…promised me that if I infiltrated Redcliffe and poisoned the Arl, he would make things right with the Circle. I…was stupid and desperate, and I can see how easy I was to manipulate now," he sighed. "I am truly sorry for what I've done. That's why I want to prove that I can fix all of this," Jowan added, looking back at me.

I smiled gently, gingerly reaching out a hand and placing it over his, my fingertips lightly brushing over his scar. He flinched slightly at my touch, but as he took my hand in his, the shaking stopped. "Don't worry, Jowan. You'll be able to sort this out," I promised, and he nodded slightly.

"Thank you. No one's…ever given me a second chance like this. I never thought it would be possible, actually," he replied.

"Well, sometimes, people deserve a chance to redeem themselves," I smiled, patting his hand and standing, returning to the house as he went back to practicing his spells.

oOo

The tavern was crowded to bursting with celebrating militiamen and villagers that evening. Adeline grinned, happy that the people were happy, and she slid into a seat at the bar, greeting Bella. A band had started up a lively tune, and Leliana joined in the song, her high, clear voice echoing through the room. Alistair had been convinced to keep score for a drinking contest with Murdock, Owen and some of the other men from the village; everyone looked flushed except Owen, who was downing the ale like it was water.

Sten sat in a small alcove on his own, quietly observing the surroundings, and Adeline took her tankard and joined him, sitting down next to the warrior. Morrigan had scoffed at the idea of joining in the group's drunken celebration, and Olan had remained at the farmhouse to keep her company, much to the witch's chagrin. Jowan had remained behind as well – he was in no shape to be drinking, and he agreed that it would probably be safer away from the villagers for a while, should any of them recognize him.

"Hello Sten," Adeline greeted, watching the dancers as she took a seat.

"Warden," he replied.

The two listened to Leliana singing, and the raucous laughter of the militiamen as Murdock's head hit the table – to everyone's astonishment, _Tomas_ was the only one holding his own against Owen. Bella came over, refilling Adeline's tankard with a smile once she had drained it. Sten didn't drink, but he didn't answer when the Elf asked why.

"You are not quite as callow as I thought," Sten remarked suddenly, and Adeline glanced up at him, surprised. "That is…unexpected."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, giving him a confused look.

"Callow? It is a word in your tongue. It means, 'without feathers.' As a new-hatched bird," he explained, and she made a face.

"I _know_ what the word means," she replied, taking a sip from her tankard.

"Then why ask?" he said, and the Elf rolled her eyes. _You know, for someone so stoic, you enjoy teasing me quite a bit,_ she thought, leaning her back against the bench.

"I _meant_ , why did you think I was callow?" she amended.

"You probably give most people that impression. You'll get over it. Eventually," Sten answered.

Adeline snorted, shaking her head, slightly amused by her companion's jab. "Why did I let you out of that cage again?" she groaned humorously, licking her lips as she took another draught from her tankard. It was really quite good – Bella had opened a fresh barrel of mead, and wasn't watering it down like she had caught Lloyd doing earlier.

"I have wondered that, myself. It is one of the many things I find puzzling about your behavior," Sten replied, and Adeline raised an eyebrow. It was true that she had caught the Qunari watching her on occasion in camp, but she usually assumed it was because she was doing something loud or stupid…which was actually quite often – _especially_ when she was making a fool of herself in front of Alistair.

"Do I even want to know what the other things are?" the Elf wondered, almost afraid to ask.

"No, let's leave this discussion…polite," Sten replied. _Ooh, ouch, right in the pride,_ she thought, trying her best not to laugh – she could feel her cheeks flushing with the effects of the mead.

"You know, I _could_ put you back there," Adeline added with a crooked grin, and she swore the Qunari almost rolled his eyes at her threat.

"Yes, yes, idle threat, retort, counter-threat. I know," Sten said.

"Well…I find plenty of things puzzling about _you_ ," Adeline countered, glancing up at the Qunari and propping her elbow up against the back of the bench, indicating him with her tankard.

"What is there to be puzzled by? I'm a simple creature. I like swords. I follow orders. There's nothing else to know about me," Sten said, and she snorted. _Oh please,_ she thought, recalling his words about wisdom on the hilltop, _don't be so modest._

" _I_ don't think you're that simple," Adeline replied.

"As I said, you're not as callow as I thought," Sten repeated, and she smiled, feeling the warmth of the drink through her body as she finished her third tankard.

The Elf grinned at Leliana as she came over, and the bard smiled back. "Adeline, come here," she said, and the girl stood.

"Mmm?" she asked, walking with her as she took the Elf's hand.

"Come and sing with me! You've such a lovely voice!" Leliana giggled – her face was flushed with drink, and Adeline laughed as the bard nearly crashed into one of the support-beams, dragging the Elf towards the band. She began singing a song that Adeline recognized, and the girl joined in, their clear, soprano voices echoing through the tavern as they sang in harmony.

After the song, and a few more drinks at the bar with the militiamen, Adeline spotted Alistair watching her from his spot by the drinking contest; she smiled at him, making her way over slowly so as not to trip. Once there, she paused, leaning against the wall of the alcove, blinking slowly and watching Owen laughing, slamming his tankard on the table and cheering as Tomas finally collapsed. Owen toppled out of his chair a moment later, and the Elf grinned, chuckling at them as she closed her eyes. Adeline couldn't remember how much she had drank, in all honesty – everything was hazy.

Alistair had decided to stay sober – he had had a few drinks himself, but restrained himself; he wanted to make sure they all didn't end up stumbling off the side of the cliff on their way back to the farmhouse. He kept an eye on Adeline, mostly – he had a feeling that as soon as he took his eyes off her, she'd get herself into all sorts of trouble. He didn't know how much she had drank, but she looked about ready to pass out, the way she was leaning against the wall with her eyes closed.

"Alright, time to go," Alistair sighed, standing and catching her as she nearly toppled over.

"Nnn…don't wanna," Adeline mumbled, looking up at him sleepily.

"Adeline, you're falling over," he observed, and she laughed, slapping his arm playfully.

"No I'm not!" she grinned, and he rolled his eyes.

"Adeline, if you don't come with me, I'm going to carry you," he threatened, and she took a step back, leaning against the wall with her arms folded behind her.

"Just try it," she challenged, and he sighed. Alistair took a step forward and easily scooped the Elf into his arms, ignoring her complaints. "Nooo! Let me goooo!" Adeline whined as she was picked up, and Alistair put the struggling girl over his shoulder, waving goodnight to Bella and the others.

The night air was cool and refreshing after the stifling atmosphere of the tavern. Alistair took a long breath, rolling his eyes at Adeline as she tried to wriggle out of his grip. As he carried her, Alistair felt the Elf stop struggling, feeling her turn to prop herself up on his shoulder. "Come on, quit that," Alistair said as he stopped by the windmill, setting her down. "What is it?" he asked gently; she stood there, looking at him with those big, green eyes, a wide grin across her face. She reached out and ran her hands through his hair, laughing at the surprised look on his face.

"Dance with me!" she suddenly exclaimed, and Alistair stared at her in bewilderment. She grabbed his hands and put one on her waist, leaning against him and looking up at the man expectantly. He stood in place, still confused, and a bit excited at her closeness.

"But there's no music," Alistair said, and Adeline scoffed.

"We'll _make_ some, then," she replied. The Elf cleared her throat and began humming softly; it was a slow tune, drifting softly on the summer breeze. Alistair smiled slightly at her and began rocking her back and forth in a gentle dance, his heartbeat speeding up as he held the girl to him. _She's so beautiful,_ he thought as he watched her. Her hair was soft under his fingers as he placed his hand on her cheek, and her eyes shone brightly as she watched him.

Adeline stumbled slightly, tripping over a sudden dip in the ground, and the two fell over with a soft rush of air, landing in the grass and scattering fireflies everywhere. The Elf lay against Alistair's chest, and he stared up at her, his hands resting lightly on her back as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She grinned, looking at him with sparkling eyes, and began speaking in a coy tone.

"Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?" she asked, and Alistair let out a soft sigh, humoring the drunken girl. He hoped that she wouldn't laugh at how hard his heart was pounding – no doubt she could feel it against her own as she lay sprawled over his chest.

"Not unless they were asking me for a favor. Well, there was that one time in Denerim, but those women were…not like you," he replied softly, brushing some hair behind her ear. His hand lingered lightly on her cheek, and she smiled, closing her eyes and leaning into his touch with a small sigh. "Why? Is this your way of telling me _you_ think I'm handsome?" Adeline grinned, leaning forward so that their faces were only inches apart.

"You _know_ you're handsome," she murmured, looking down at him with shiny, drunken eyes, her cheeks flushed bright red.

"Maybe. It doesn't hurt to have a pretty girl say that, though. Beats being run through with a sword any day!" Alistair grinned. He felt his heart tightening up as she looked at him, her green eyes shining in the moonlight like glittering gemstones. _I doubt she'll even_ _ **remember**_ _anything tomorrow,_ Alistair thought, swallowing nervously as he blushed. She was running her fingers over the length of his jaw, tracing out the shape before the tip of her index-finger came to rest on his lower lip. "So…is this the part where I get to say the same?" he asked, and he felt his face grow warm as Adeline leaned forward further, their noses nearly touching.

He could smell the alluring scent of cinnamon that seemed to permeate the air around her, suddenly feeling as if he could sustain himself on her smell alone. "Not unless you don't think so," she murmured quietly to him, her eyes almost shut, hidden by long, dark lashes. Alistair felt his hands tighten slightly on the small of her back, and he smiled gently at her.

"Oh, I think so. I'll just spring it on you when it's a surprise," he chuckled nervously as he felt her heart beating against his chest, wondering if they could hear his own heart fluttering all the way down in the village. He nearly leapt out of his skin as Adeline leaned forward further, her lips pressing gently against his.

For a moment, Alistair was frozen, and he thought his heart skipped a beat. A fire sparked in him, then, as Adeline kissed him again, and he pulled her tightly against him, kissing back. She chuckled slightly, running a hand over his cheek. "You'll have to do better than that," she teased in a sultry tone, leaning in again. He let out a small, startled gasp as she took his lower lip in her teeth, and he opened his mouth, feeling her tongue sweeping through as she placed her hands on either side of his face, moaning as he kissed her back.

They rolled over, and Alistair nearly lost himself, kissing the girl senseless as she grabbed his shoulders, covering his face and hair with frantic kisses as he trailed his lips across her jaw and throat; they couldn't get enough of each other. His arms tightened around her, as if the two could be pressed any closer, his tongue swiping through her mouth, wrestling with hers as he became bolder in his movements. Adeline moaned into his mouth as she ran her hands through his hair, and Alistair felt her wrap her legs around him, pressing her hips against his as they rolled in the grass, her back arching as she felt his desire against her pelvis, and he grabbed her hindquarters.

She tasted like cinnamon and spices and honey… _honey…mead…drinking. Drunk! She's drunk!_ Alistair's disjointed thoughts crashed over him like a wave, and his eyes shot open as he pulled his mouth from hers. He let out a shaky breath as he realized what he was doing, blushing furiously as he stared down at Adeline, who was lying in the grass between his arms, a broad grin on her face as she panted for breath. Her lips were red from kissing, and her cheeks were flushed, chest rising and falling gently as she caught her breath, her body quivering with excitement.

"Maker's breath, I'm sorry Adeline, I…" he trailed off as she laughed, shaking her head.

"Shush…" she murmured gently, placing a finger over his lips. "I liked it," she chuckled, slowly sitting up and leaning against his shoulder, kissing his cheek lightly and closing her eyes as she rested her forehead against his throat. "But I didn't know you'd kiss me like that," she added teasingly, and he let out a soft groan, his eyes apologetic.

"Adeline, I–" Alistair's breath hitched in his throat as he felt Adeline's lips against his shoulder, closing his eyes as he felt her kissing him across his collarbone. Her mouth lingered where his neck and shoulder met, and Alistair flushed as he felt her nip his skin, drawing back with flashing eyes. She chuckled at his look of confusion, nuzzling against his throat and closing her eyes.

Alistair heard her breathing evening out as she fell asleep, and he sighed, shivering at the heat that burned him to his core. Despite her willingness in what they had just done…he didn't want to take advantage of her. He didn't want to do anything to Adeline while she was drunk – she was too special to him.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	16. Chapter 16: The Blackest Crow

Chapter 16: The Blackest Crow

Author's note:

You can guess where this is going by the song name – maybe a bit early in-game, but I don't think it's ever too early for my favorite Antivan to make his appearance.

Oh, and thank you, anonymous reader, for the review. That was very sweet of you. (^.^)

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Why do I have the feeling that I did something _really_ embarrassing last night?" I mumbled to myself as I got up the next morning, massaging my temples as a headache throbbed through my skull. Leliana simply giggled and looked coy, and I felt dread knotting my stomach – she only ever got like that when Alistair was involved. "I didn't do anything… _indecent_ , did I?" I asked, almost in horror, and she shook her head.

"No no," she assured me as we stepped outside, pausing as she thought about something. She glanced at Alistair, who stood a little ways off, looking down the hill towards Redcliffe – as soon as he saw me, he flushed scarlet and turned the other way, and I slapped my forehead with my palm.

"Oh _no_ ," I groaned, running my hands through my hair. "I did something to _Alistair_ , didn't I?" Leliana's smug look was all the answer I needed. "Ugh, it would help if I _remembered_ anything from last night," I added with a sigh. "I should go apologize for…whatever it is that I did," I mumbled, and Leliana giggled, shaking her head.

"I don't think that's necessary," she teased, but I walked over anyway, looking up at Alistair guiltily. He wouldn't meet my eyes, which made it worse, and I folded my hands behind my back, waiting for him to look at me.

"Alistair?" I asked softly, and he met my gaze when he heard the distress in my voice. "I…um… I can't remember much about last night, but I'm sorry if I…uh… _did_ anything to you," I apologized sincerely, and he looked surprised at first, and then slightly amused.

"Oh, don't worry about it. We just tripped on the way back to the farmhouse, and you passed out," he replied. Something in his eyes told me that this wasn't the whole story…but I wasn't about to press him for information. _Especially_ if it was something embarrassing. I just hoped Leliana wouldn't use it to torment me with later or anything. I let out a long, relieved sigh, glad that it wasn't anything serious though, and I cheered up immediately.

"That's good. The way Leliana's smirking over there, you'd think I'd have…" I trailed off as I saw it; just hidden by the collar of his shirt was a dark mark – a love bite. Alistair saw me staring at his neck, and a slow blush crept over his throat as he awkwardly tugged at his shirt. "Oh…oh Maker's _breath_ , I'm so sorry Alistair," I groaned, covering my face with my hands – this _had_ to have been what Leliana was smirking about.

"No, it's…you were drunk," he assured me, and I looked at him guiltily.

"Still…I shouldn't have…" I sighed, looking down in shame, and Alistair let out a soft breath, seeing how distraught I was about it. He leaned in, gently brushing the hair away from my ear and whispering to me, so that the others didn't overhear.

"You know," he murmured, "I could have stopped you if I had really wanted to." I felt him very gently kiss my cheek, and I stared at him as he smiled slightly. He chuckled at my startled expression as I blushed, at a loss for words. He ran his fingers lightly over my cheek, heading back to the house to help the others pack our things as I stood there, smiling like a fool.

oooo

The villagers had given our group a gift, as thanks for helping fight off the undead; they had provided us with a wagon, supplies, and a large shire horse with a sleek chestnut coat and dark mane for our trip to Kinloch Hold. The horse's name was Dancia, we were told; she was an enormous mare, and I stood barely taller than the horse's legs – Sten and a smaller passenger could probably sit comfortably on the horse's back, she was so big. We were given supplies for the trip – food, cookware, and tents, among other things – and a few of the village children watched us as we loaded the cart, preparing to go. They were playing nearby, and I heard Sten mutter something as he glanced at them. "Those are too small. Send them back to the priests for more training."

I gasped, lifting up the box of Dwarven armor and putting it in the back, tossing my tent, knapsack and bedroll on top. "What are you doing, carrying heavy armor with you?" Leliana asked with a laugh, looking at the box curiously. Morrigan was looking on inquisitively as well, from where she was sitting in the back of the cart, but refrained from speaking.

"It was a gift from Owen. _I_ can't wear it…but maybe we'll come across a Dwarf who will join our cause. If we're lucky," I replied, leaning against the back of the cart. "It's very finely made, though, so if I have to, I can always present it as a gift to King Endrin…the uh, Dwarf king," I explained. "We'll have to see him eventually," I added.

"Ah, you can catch more flies with honey, yes?" Leliana remarked, and I smiled.

"Exactly," I said, making sure everything was secured. _When we go to Orzammar…I wonder if I could find Duran? The Legion of the Dead_ _ **does**_ _come back to resupply every now and then. If I'm lucky, maybe I'll see him,_ I thought, smiling slightly as I remembered the Dwarf. "Oh!" I gasped, suddenly realizing something, as I glanced up towards the windmill, my eyes lingering on the shadows by the mossy wall.

"What?" Leliana asked, and I grinned.

"Come with me! I've got a surprise for you," I replied, taking her hand and leading the girl towards the windmill. "Cover your eyes," I instructed, and she placed her hands over her eyes. I had her kneel down near the patch of white flowers next to the windmill, lightly removing her hands and presenting the flowers with a dramatic flourish.

"Hmm? Flowers? Uh…they're…very pretty," Leliana remarked, not sure why I had brought her there.

"Smell them," I prompted, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She gasped, her eyes flashing open as she stared at the flowers, and then back up at me.

"These were…these were her favorite…" she murmured, touching one of the flowers with the tip of her finger. "Oh, I haven't seen these in such a long time! They smell just like Mother used to." She picked one of the flowers, holding it to her nose and breathing in the scent. The tension she had been carrying with her seemed to lessen, and her shoulders relaxed slightly. "Thank you…thank you so much for remembering," Leliana smiled, standing and pulling me into a hug.

"Of course. You're my friend," I replied, hugging her back. We returned to the cart, and I saw her press the flower between the pages of her journal, saving it.

I sat at the head of the cart, Morrigan sitting next to me as I drove, and Leliana sat in the back, idly plucking at her lute and humming faintly, evidently in a good mood after I had shown her the patch of Andraste's Grace. Sten and Alistair walked on either side of the wagon, keeping an eye out for danger as we headed along the path, and Olan trotted along the road a little bit ahead of us, sniffing the air intently and wagging his tail. Jowan walked ahead of Alistair, to my left – it seemed Alistair still wanted to keep an eye on him.

I was a little worried about Jowan – he hadn't gotten much exercise in weeks or more, and he was a mage besides, but he assured me that he would be fine. _Psh, men,_ I thought, _too proud to admit when they need help._ I rolled my eyes at the thought, relenting – if I had to, I would toss him into the cart myself…but I would rather not embarrass him in front of the others. He looked like he wanted to do this on his own, so I tried not to bother him.

I glanced over at Morrigan, who was idly fingering the large, bronze necklace that rested on her collarbone. She seemed generally less hostile towards me – more so than toward Alistair, at least – so I decided to talk to her to pass the time. "Have you ever been hunted by the Chantry, Morrigan?" I asked, thinking of Jowan, and she glanced over at me, her eyes like the petals of daffodils.

"My mother _has_ been hunted from time to time, yes. By Templar fools like Alistair," Morrigan replied offhandedly.

"Hey!" Alistair retorted, hearing her and scowling at the dark-haired woman.

"…which should tell you how successful they generally were. Flemeth made a bit of a game of it, in fact," the dark-haired girl continued, and I listened intently to her. I noticed Jowan make a face out of the corner of my eye – evidently, he didn't find getting chased by Templars very entertaining. "The Templars would come again and she would look at me and smile, and say that the fun was to begin once more," Morrigan described, looking up ahead as Dancia snorted, her ears flicking as Olan barked at something in the bushes, startling some birds.

"So you really had no trouble with them?" I asked curiously, and Morrigan shrugged, leaning back against the seat and folding her hands in her lap, cocking her head slightly as she thought for a few moments.

"I am…unsure. I was too young to understand, and perhaps 'twas bravado on Flemeth's part. Or perhaps she was merely amused; I will never know," she admitted. "Flemeth would warn them, once; 'twas a warning they inevitably failed to heed," she recalled. "And then the _true_ game began. Often Flemeth would use me as bait – a little girl to scream and run and lure the Templars deeper into the Wilds and to their doom." _Oh,_ _ **that's**_ _delightful,_ I thought, trying not to look visibly disturbed – after all, the Templars would have spared them no mercy, had Morrigan and Flemeth been caught. _They did what they had to…and I suppose they're not the only ones who have enjoyed killing men before._

"Surely more would have followed, once the Templars went missing – they would have sent search parties or something," I argued, and Morrigan shrugged, absently brushing some hair out of her eyes, tucking the dark strands behind an ear.

"Sometimes. Eventually," she replied. "Thankfully, the Wilds are vast. Once they found us, Flemeth would simply move us elsewhere and we would be lost within the forest once again," she explained. _I wonder if they moved the whole house? I doubt Flemeth would go to the trouble of destroying and rebuilding it each time, and she_ _ **is**_ _a powerful mage. And a demon_ , I thought, glancing up at the road ahead, watching Olan dart back and forth across the path. _I wouldn't be surprised if the house got up and started walking around at her command,_ I tried not to laugh at the thought, imagining Flemeth's house walking around on giant chicken legs. "I did not understand the danger we faced until I was much older. I had never heard of 'apostates' or 'maleficarum'," Morrigan added, fingering the hem of her dark skirt, her words bringing my thoughts back into focus.

"Do you still think that was fun?" I wondered, and she shrugged.

"I think that my mother made it fun so that a child did not learn to fear. And I think that it was necessary; there are no trials for apostates, no prisons, no mercy – there are only absolutes, so only survival matters. If the Wilds have taught me anything, 'tis this: first you must survive. Do you disagree?" Morrigan asked.

"No, you're probably right," I replied – that was…sort of how it was in the Alienage, too; people stereotyped Elves as pickpockets and cut-purses because we _had_ to do it – most needed any scrap of coin they could get, or their landlords would evict them.

"An enlightened view…or at least an agreeable one," Morrigan observed, and I smiled, deciding to change the subject – thinking about the Alienage was making me a little homesick.

"Tell me though…are you _really_ Flemeth's daughter?" I asked curiously, and she raised an eyebrow at the question, a faint smile on her lips at my curious nature.

"I assume you are actually asking whether Flemeth herself gave birth to me," she clarified, and I nodded. "Truly, I do not know. I once asked Flemeth that very question, and she merely laughed at me," she replied. "'Tis not inconceivable that she could capture a Chasind man, or perhaps change to a more attractive form to attract him willingly. _I_ find it more difficult to imagine her with child," Morrigan remarked, absently twirling a strand of her dark hair around a finger, lost in thought.

"She wasn't always as old as she is now, was she?" I asked, and Morrigan bit her lip, shaking her head that it was not so.

"As a matter of fact, I remember her being younger once. She had black hair much like my own, long and lustrous," she murmured. "But how could that be if she is centuries old? Has she become wizened only recently? Or are the tales of her legend only that and nothing more?" she mused, shrugging. "I _do_ know the tales of Flemeth having many daughters, even though I have never met another. And Flemeth has always treated me as her blood," she added.

"Does that mean you love her, then?" I asked, and Morrigan seemed genuinely surprised by the question, almost amused by it, even.

"What an _odd_ thing to say. Why must ' _love_ ' enter into the equation?" she wondered with a scornful laugh. "Flemeth taught me everything I needed to learn. How to survive. The meaning of power. The truth of men. If other mothers do not teach these things, then I believe them the lesser," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I…suppose that's true," I replied, and she rolled her eyes at my attempt at being agreeable.

"You _suppose_ it's true? 'Tis true," she said firmly. "To indulge in love is to indulge in delusion. Surely a Grey Warden such as yourself does not believe otherwise?" she asked, and I shrugged.

"Perhaps that is true…but on this I have to disagree, Morrigan," I replied.

"I see. Well, we all have our weaknesses, don't we?" she remarked in a resigned tone.

oooo

In the evening, I stood by the cart, brushing Dancia's coat and patting the horse's shoulder, murmuring softly to her as she sniffed at my face curiously. "There, there," I said gently, stroking her velvet muzzle as the horse looked at me with big, liquid-brown eyes. I glanced down as Olan walked over, giving a plaintive whine and rubbing against my legs. "Oh, jealous are we?" I asked, kneeling next to the dog and scratching behind his ears. "Oof, you reek. Did you find an animal carcass and _roll_ in it?" I asked, and the mabari gave a happy bark. "Of course you did," I snorted, shaking my head.

I headed back towards the fire, sitting down near Sten as he murmured something softly in Qunlat. Leliana was playing her lute nearby, singing softly, and Jowan was next to her, his eyes closed as he listened, or perhaps meditated. Alistair was on the other side of camp, keeping watch, and Morrigan sat off to the side, at her own smaller fire. Now was as good a time as ever to practice, and I supposed I hadn't done it in a while.

I took off my gloves and boots, putting them in a pile next to my tent, tossing my vest on top before walking back to a small, clear area. I checked the evenness of the ground with my feet, making sure there weren't any sticks or sharp stones. I knitted my fingers together in front of me and stretched, moving them slowly over my head and letting out a tiny moan as my muscles shuddered with pleasure. I rolled my shoulders, ignoring Leliana and Jowan's eyes on me – they were probably wondering what I was doing, stretching and standing around barefoot.

I slowly bent over backwards, leaning as far back as I could before placing my palms flat on the ground. I moved from there until my forearms were flat against the ground, and my back was bent in an arc, my legs off the ground and pointing parallel to my arms, rolling onto my stomach and sitting up. I stood again, hopping lightly in place and wringing out my hands for a moment before jumping into the air, flipping over backwards and landing lightly on the balls of my feet. I heard Jowan take a small breath at the sight, and I tried not grin – he was only bolstering my ego.

I began moving slowly in circles, my hands held lightly before me, fingers relaxed – I had seen Rivaini and Antivan sailors using this form of unarmed combat down at the docks from time to time, and had picked up a thing or two from watching them. When I had asked an old sailor watching a fight once, he told me the story behind it. Supposedly, it was an old style of unarmed combat developed by an elite group of Antivan assassins – the story went that a pair of initiates had run away from the group after learning the basics of the art, fleeing to Llomerryn, and it had evolved over time and teaching as it was spread among Rivaini and Antivan sailors.

The movements were simple – there weren't any set 'techniques'; mostly, the idea was to stay light on your feet and strike as swiftly as possible, using your palms, elbows, knees and heels. I believed the style was actually called 'pies ligeros', Antivan for 'light-footed'. It _was_ rather showy, sometimes – not many of the human sailors could do it, but a few of the Elf deckhands I had seen could do flips and twists in midair while they fought. Truly, it was combat for acrobats – or assassins, given the origin.

I finished after going over a few of the more flashy movements – I really _was_ a bit of a showoff, I had to admit – pausing to catch my breath. I strode back over to the fire, walking slowly around it as I cooled down, sitting and smiling slightly at Jowan once I had caught my breath; he had been outright _staring_ at me while I was practicing. He noticed my amused look and cleared his throat slightly, glancing away with red cheeks.

"I…um…didn't know you were that flexible," he remarked, blushing deeper as Leliana snickered under her breath.

"Mmm…I'm a bit rusty, I'll admit – it's better with a sparring partner who knows the technique," I admitted with a sigh, stretching my arms and letting out a small, satisfied grunt as I felt my shoulders pop.

"So what was that, anyway? Fighting?" Leliana chimed in, and I propped my elbows up on my knees, giving her a sidelong glance.

"Yeah, learned it from some sailors back in Denerim," I replied, although I didn't elaborate on it. Sten had finished his meditations, and I watched him curiously, recalling some of the words that he had been speaking back in Lothering. I waited until Sten noticed my look before speaking up. "Back in Lothering…what were you reciting?" I asked, and he gazed into the fire.

"The Qun. The path to wisdom. I am not surprised you don't recognize it," he replied, and I raised an eyebrow.

"What is the Qun, exactly?" I prodded curiously.

"Ask a tamassran: they know how to explain things to children. It is not for me to teach the Qun," he answered. _Ooh, ouch,_ I thought, resting my chin on my hands and looking into the crackling fire. _Ah, speaking of children…_

"What was that you said about children? I heard you say something when we left Redcliffe this morning," I recalled.

"What were they doing? It did not look like it served any purpose," Sten asked, and I closed my eyes, trying to recall what had happened – a few boys and girls were playing tag.

"They were playing," I replied, and his brow furrowed slightly.

"That word means nothing to me," he said, and I raised an eyebrow.

"You were a child once, you must remember it," I urged.

"Yes. I remember days spent in study," Sten replied.

"Qunari children must play _sometimes_ ," I argued, and Sten looked at me oddly.

"Why?" he asked, and I opened my mouth to answer, finding that I really _didn't_ have a good reason.

"Well…ah…good question," I mumbled, my ears reddening in embarrassment as I glanced back at the fire.

"Your priests clearly should have spent more time training you," Sten remarked, and I scowled up at him, sensing he was trying to get a rise out of me.

"That's not what priests do," I retorted. He was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed in confusion once more.

"Then who train the imekari?" he asked.

"Their…parents?" I replied. _Wow. Our societies are so different. He must have no idea what I'm talking about,_ I thought, seeing the look of confusion on his face.

"Parents? Are you speaking nonsense on purpose?" he asked. "If you insist on speaking, use real words." I almost laughed, biting back a grin at his puzzlement.

"What do Qunari call people with children?" I tried.

"Tamassrans," he replied, "But the imekari are not 'theirs'. They belong to the Qunari, not the priesthood."

"So, they're raised by priests, but they belong to everyone?" I asked, and he nodded. "Hmm…well, parents don't _own_ children – they're the ones who _birth_ them," I explained.

"You let your imekari be raised by _them?_ That explains much," Sten muttered, and I rolled my eyes, gazing back at the fire.

"So why don't Qunari raise their own children?" I asked, and Sten glanced back at me.

"It obviously didn't work for you," he replied, and I scowled at him.

"Cute," I glowered, and I saw amusement in his violet eyes.

"I liked it," he replied, a faint smile on the Qunari's lips. "You are a Grey Warden, yet you know little of your own order. You do not know yourself, or what you are for. It was cruel of your people to leave you this way. The tamassrans see that all Qunari know themselves," Sten explained.

"I… _do_ know who and what I am," I argued, looking up at him.

"Why do you hesitate? It is your task to fight the archdemon, isn't it?" Sten challenged.

"It is my task, but I'm not ready yet," I replied, and he looked at me quietly, his eyes slightly narrowed at my subdued tone.

"Perhaps it should not be left to you, then," he said, and I looked back at him, suddenly angry at his words. _Hey, I'm doing the best that I can! I grew up in a sodding_ _ **Alienage**_ _for Andraste's sake! I was never meant to lead_ _ **anyone**_ _, let alone an army against the_ _ **Blight!**_

"What do you want me to do? Charge straight at the archdemon?" I asked, exasperated.

"At least we would be going in the right _direction_ ," he replied. I glared at the fire, furious at him…but knowing that he spoke the truth. _Maybe he's right – I really_ _ **don't**_ _know what I'm doing. Maybe…I shouldn't lead us. I know exactly who I am; some gutter trash that was lucky enough to become a Grey Warden, but unlucky enough to live through Ostagar._

I stood, quietly thanking Sten for the talk and heading back to my tent. I lay under the blanket, worrying about what Sten had said. I tossed and turned all night, and when I finally _did_ get to sleep, I was jolted awake by a nightmare about the archdemon.

oOo

Jowan had been listening to Leliana's playing as they sat by the fire…but was also shamelessly eavesdropping on Adeline's conversation with Sten. Shamelessly, because he knew Leliana was doing exactly the same thing, pretending to be occupied with tuning her instrument. He opened his eyes as he heard Adeline's angry tone, and he watched as the Elf glared at the fire in silence. She let out a long breath and bade them goodnight, retiring to her tent.

Jowan glanced at Leliana, who bit her lip and gave a weak shrug, not sure that they should disturb her. "So Leliana, you're a minstrel?" Jowan asked the copper-haired woman, and she smiled slightly, nodding.

"Indeed. Why? Is there a particular tune you would like me to play?" she asked, but Jowan shook his head.

"I was thinking more of stories," the mage replied, and Leliana's eyes sparkled with excitement. Jowan was suddenly nervous – he was always a bit nervous around women – but especially around excited women…who were also very beautiful. _No, Jowan, that's how all of your problems started,_ he thought, trying to push away the notion.

"Do you have a certain story in mind?" Leliana prompted, and Jowan shrugged.

"No, not really. I don't know many stories, to tell you the truth," he replied, and Leliana nodded.

"Very well then," Leliana said, looking up into the sky. She pointed up towards a long trail of stars that ran across the sky, and Jowan followed her gaze. "There is a story about that cluster of stars over there. Do you know it? Alindra and her soldier?"

"I can't say I've heard it," Jowan remarked, although he _did_ know of the constellation Alindra. Leliana cleared her voice and began telling the tale; Jowan was mesmerized.

"A long time ago, there lived a fair maiden called Alindra. She had many suitors, but spurned them all, for she did not love them," Leliana began, her voice bright and clear. "One day, Alindra was sitting by her window in her father's castle, singing and dreaming, when her lovely voice caught the attention of a young soldier. Entranced by her song, the soldier drew near to Alindra's window. As their eyes met, he fell in love with her, and she with him." Jowan felt his heart clench up, and he looked into the fire; Leliana's story drew out echoes of memory that he had tried to suppress – this tale reminded him of his first meeting with Lily. She had been reciting the Chant of Light, and Jowan had heard her voice and followed it into the chapel.

"When Alindra told her father about the man she had chosen, he was furious, for Alindra was high-born, but her love nothing more than a common soldier," Leliana continued, not noticing Jowan's stiff shoulders. "To keep them apart, he had Alindra imprisoned in the highest tower of his castle and sent her soldier to the wars. Alas, not a month had passed before news of the soldier's death reached Alindra. Alone in her tower, Alindra wept for her love and beseeched the gods to deliver her from this cruel world. So earnest was her plea that the gods themselves were moved. They gathered Alindra into their arms and lifted her high into the heavens, where she became a star. The gods also raised up the soul of Alindra's soldier love and there he dwells, across the horizon from her," Leliana pointed to a constellation on the other side of the sky.

"The band of stars between them is a river of Alindra's tears, cried for her lost love. They say that when Alindra has cried enough, she will be able to cross the river to be reunited with her soldier," Leliana finished, and Jowan let out a long sigh, looking back at her with a small smile.

"That's a beautiful story," the mage murmured, and Leliana grinned.

"This story is one of my favorites, a tale of a love so great and so enduring that it defies death, and moves the gods to action," Leliana said, placing a hand on her cheek as she looked up at the clear night sky. "Sometimes I ask myself, does such a love exist? _Can_ it exist?" she asked almost wistfully, and Jowan knitted his fingers together as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"If we lose hope in love, then we are truly lost," he sighed, and Leliana looked at him with wide eyes.

"I…never expected you to say that. It is…a pleasant surprise," she admitted, and Jowan glanced towards her, raising an eyebrow.

"Why is it a surprise?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"Perhaps it is because I do not know you well, but you seem to be quite somber and reclusive. Finding a person behind that all is nice," Leliana remarked, and Jowan smiled a bit. Both of them nearly leapt out of their skin as they heard a shriek behind them, and Jowan staggered to his feet, raising his arms to cast a spell.

"Maker's breath, what _was_ that?" he exclaimed, a hand on his heart as he stared about, once he realized the camp wasn't under attack.

"…sorry…" he heard someone call faintly, recognizing Adeline's voice.

"Why was she…?" Jowan trailed off, bewildered, and Leliana sighed, motioning for him to sit back down.

"The Grey Wardens…they have nightmares sometimes. Very frightening, I think – Adeline gets very bad night-terrors, and wakes up screaming," she explained, and Jowan's eyes widened as he looked back towards the Elf's tent. He watched as Alistair timidly came over, kneeling by the entrance and asking if everything was alright. There was a faint sound of acknowledgement, and Jowan blinked with surprise as Alistair went inside.

"Oh. Are they…?" he asked, glancing at Leliana, who smiled sadly.

"They take comfort in one another," she replied, returning to playing a soft tune on her lute.

oooo

Adeline was curled up tightly as she sat, her legs pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped around herself. She had asked Alistair to come in, and glanced at him as she rested her cheek against her knees. "Adeline, are you sure you're alright?" Alistair asked softly, sitting next to her. She let out a long sigh, closing her eyes and remaining silent for a few moments.

"Do you…" she began, biting her lip as she opened her eyes. "Do you ever scream? When you have the nightmares?" she asked softly, and Alistair watched as she slowly uncurled herself. He gently took her blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, placing a hand gingerly on her cheek.

"I've learned to block them out a bit," he replied. "But I used to wake up screaming, just the same as you," he added, looking into her eyes. "The first night after my Joining, I woke up half the compound screaming like a little girl. Duncan thought I had someone in my room with me – not embarrassing at all," he admitted, his eyes soft as he managed to get a weak smile from her. She chuckled, pulling the blanket around herself more tightly and leaning against him.

"Alistair?" Adeline asked quietly, and he nodded, wrapping an arm around her as she leaned against his shoulder. "Would you…stay with me? Until I fall asleep?"

"Of course," Alistair replied. He lay down next to Adeline, holding her as she bundled herself in the blankets, still shivering slightly from her nightmare. She let out a soft breath as she closed her eyes, and Alistair felt her heartbeat slow as she lay with her back to him, the tension fading from her body as she relaxed. "Goodnight," he whispered, once she was sound asleep. He moved gently, so as not to disturb her, pressing his lips against her hair and breathing in her warm scent, feeling Adeline sigh in her sleep, a small smile on her face.

oOo

The next few days, as we slowly made our way around the lake, I was quiet, thinking about what Sten had said to me. Morrigan was flying overhead, transformed into a large raven, and Sten and Alistair were walking a little ways behind the wagon, keeping an eye on the woods for darkspawn, or bandits. Jowan walked to the left of the wagon with Olan, chatting with the dog, who would reply with short, conversational barks. Leliana must have noticed my dour mood; she clambered into the seat next to me and sat quietly for a while, crossing her legs and folding her hands on her lap, watching me.

"I…have I ever told you I really like the way you wear your hair?" Leliana asked suddenly, and I glanced over at her, wondering what had brought this on. Despite the levity in her tone, there was a bit of worry in her eyes.

"…really? It's so stubborn sometimes," I remarked, running a hand through my hair, patting it down as the wind picked it up, throwing fiery strands in my face. I had tried braiding it, but it always seemed to find a way to untangle itself, no matter what I did – it was as if my hair _wanted_ to be free, and get in my face.

"It's very nice, and it suits you," Leliana complimented with a small smile. "It's simple, not like the elaborate hairstyles we wore in Orlais. They involved flowers, ribbons, jewels…" she explained. As she spoke of Orlais, I thought I detected a hint of homesickness in her tone. "One year, feathers were all the rage, and Lady Elise decided she needed to outdo everyone else, and actually wore live _songbirds_ in her voluminous hair. The chirping was quite charming for a while, but you must realize, terrified little birdies often have loose bowels," Leliana giggled, and I stared at her for a moment.

"Dear Maker!" I gasped, nearly bursting out laughing. Leliana laughed too, glad that she had found a way to cheer me up.

"Yes…you can imagine what she looked like by the end of the evening," she giggled. "But I was trying to say something nice to you, wasn't I? Oh, forgive me. My mind wanders so," she added, and I smiled at my excitable companion. "It's just that I…I feel so comfortable talking to you, like I could say anything and you wouldn't judge me," she added, and I smirked.

"Wouldn't I? Maybe I just keep it to myself. A-ha!" I said, poking her shoulder and giving her a knowing wink, and she grinned.

"You see? You play along with me! Not many will do that," Leliana replied, leaning back against the driver's seat with a smile. "I haven't felt this close to anyone in a long time. I really enjoy your company," she added.

"You are a dear friend, Leliana," I said, looping my arm in hers, and her eyes shone with warmth, her shoulders relaxing as she sat by my side.

"Thank you. I'm honored that you feel that way," she replied. I had never had many friends back in the Alienage – it had always been just Soris, Shianni as a child, and Daveth and Neria in my teenage years…but very few others. It felt…nice.

"Do you miss anything about Orlais?" I asked after a while, and Leliana glanced over, nodding slightly.

"I miss Val Royeaux," she admitted. "Unlike other cities, where the people are the life-blood and the character, Val Royeaux was her own person, and her people little more than decorations," she continued. "There was always music in Val Royeaux, streaming from the many windows – quiet refrains and triumphant choruses…and always, floating above that all, the Chant, coming from the Grand Cathedral. It was magnificent," she described, and I closed my eyes, trying to imagine it.

"It sounds wonderful," I murmured.

"Oh, it would take me a day or two to talk about the many splendors of Orlais – her golden fields, her lush meadows…" she bubbled, and I smiled at her cheerfulness. "Of course, there are good things and bad things about Orlais, like anywhere else. Sometimes I miss it dearly, and sometimes I am glad I am rid of it. And you will laugh at this but I miss the fine things I had in Orlais," she added, and I raised an eyebrow, curious.

"What sorts of things?" I asked.

"Dresses…fine dresses and furs. And shoes, of course. One can't mingle with nobility with bad shoes, you see," Leliana said, her eyes flashing at the mention of shoes. "Orlais is very fashionable. Almost ridiculously so. Ah…but the shoes. Living with those ridiculous trends was worth it for the shoes," she breathed, and I smirked.

"Were they ridiculous shoes?" I joked, and she giggled.

"Sometimes. About ten years ago all the ladies went mad for shoes with soles as large – and heavy – as bricks. But it isn't _always_ that silly. When I left Orlais, the fashion was shoes with delicate, tapered heels and embellishments in the front – a ribbon perhaps, or embroidery. In soft colors of course; it was spring," she described, her eyes sparkling.

"Sounds pretty…but wouldn't that be hard to walk in?" I wondered, glancing at Olan as he barked at something in the bushes, chasing a rabbit that darted out onto the path and startling Jowan with its sudden appearance.

"I wouldn't want to run in them, or have to enter battle, but for lounging in a lady's sitting room? Perfect," Leliana replied. "The shoes made in Orlais were exquisite. Not at all like these clunky fur-lined leather boots you have in Ferelden. Ugh…just look at them," she said, distaste in her voice as she indicated the pair she was wearing. _I_ thought they were alright, but then again, I had never seen a pair of Orlesian shoes the way she had described.

"At least they keep the cold out," I teased, and she shrugged.

"They're sturdy shoes, but sometimes, a girl just wants to have pretty feet. Oh, I could talk about shoes all day, but I'm sure you have better things to do," she replied with a laugh. I glanced over my shoulder towards Alistair and Sten; Alistair was asking Sten about what he did to pass the time back in Lothering.

"You know, you never _did_ tell me how you passed the time in that cage for so long," Alistair said, and Sten glanced down at him as they walked behind the wagon.

"No, I didn't," the Qunari replied, and Alistair rolled his eyes at his short response.

"So…what _did_ you do in there?" the Grey Warden prodded.

"A training exercise. I would observe an object and then try to think of all the words in your language which began with the same letter as its name," Sten answered.

"That…wait. Just wait. You're joking again, aren't you?" Alistair asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Sten.

"No," the warrior replied, completely serious.

"You are not telling me that you played 'I spy' _against yourself_ for twenty days," Alistair said doubtfully, crossing his arms.

"There are a lot of things in Lothering that begin with, 'G'," Sten replied simply. I bit my lip, trying not to laugh at the two of them. I glanced back at Leliana, who had a mischievous grin on her face, and I looked at her questioningly.

"What?" I asked, wondering why she was looking at me like that. She always got this smug look on her face when Alistair and I were hanging around one another.

"Alistair is quite fond of you, isn't he?" she observed.

"He is?" I asked, biting back a smirk at her playful scowl.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. It's obvious. He's not very good at being subtle," Leliana replied. "I like Alistair. I don't know if there's anyone who doesn't, but I…was wondering if there was something more between you two," she asked, and smiled at her.

"What do you mean?" I asked innocently, and she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, don't start. You know perfectly well what I mean; you're _flirting_ with him," Leliana replied, crossing her arms. "I _saw_ the love bite you gave him," she reminded me, and I flushed, covering my face with my hands in embarrassment.

" _Please_ don't remind me…" I groaned. "I was _drunk_."

"You may think it's harmless, and means nothing, but I see that he is quite taken with you," Leliana continued. "Alistair is a wonderful person and you shouldn't give him false hopes, if you do not mean to go further. He deserves better," she said, a hint of concern in her voice, and I sighed.

"I know, I know. I _do_ like him, though," I admitted. "I guess I'm just…awkward with this sort of thing. I…don't exactly have much experience with men…or relationships in general," I added, and Leliana smiled gently at my nervous tone. _I mean, Daveth was always making passes at me, but it was mostly teasing, right?_

"Well, he's a very nice boy, no? And I can tell he likes you a great deal," Leliana replied. "I am happy for the both of you. And especially for him; he couldn't have found a better companion," Leliana said, patting my shoulder, and I smiled.

oOo

One evening, after dinner, Adeline sat by the fire, sketching Morrigan as she sat a ways off by her own fire – she was writing notes in a small black tome as she looked over elemental crystals. The dark-haired woman glanced up as Jowan approached her cautiously, asking something. _Uh-oh,_ Adeline thought, _bad move my friend._ She was surprised, however, when Morrigan said something and allowed Jowan to sit. She suddenly looked very interested in whatever that the mage was saying, and Adeline raised an eyebrow at their animated conversation.

 _Huh. Apostates sharing spells? Hah! Like housewives trading recipes!_ Adeline thought, trying not to laugh. Alistair walked over and joined the Elf, sitting down and leaning against a tall stone, watching Olan's back rise and fall slowly as the mabari napped on the other side of the fire. Leliana had gone to bed early, and Sten was keeping watch a bit further off.

"How does it look?" Adeline asked him, showing Alistair the sketch. She really was very good, Alistair thought, as his eyes moved slowly over the image. _Wow. She actually managed to make Morrigan look…not threatening. Impressive._ Alistair stroked the stubble along his jaw as he made a show of looking at the sketch with a critical eye.

"Hmm… I don't think you've quite captured her _evilness_. Maybe give her horns…or a curly moustache," Alistair suggested, and Adeline rolled her eyes, smirking at him.

"Oh, she's not so bad once you get to know her," the girl remarked, closing the sketchbook, and Alistair scoffed, shaking his head.

"Really? _You_ seem to be the only one she doesn't constantly glare daggers at," Alistair retorted, and Adeline shrugged.

"I guess I just have a way about me," she replied.

"A way of calming wild _beasts_ , maybe," he teased, and the Elf rolled her eyes again. "Careful, they might fall out of your head if you keep doing that," he added, and she laughed.

"Oh quiet, you," Adeline grinned. She closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of the fire, and Alistair heard her sigh as she leaned her back against a fallen log. "So Alistair…" Adeline asked after a while, and Alistair glanced up at the sound of her voice, "if you were raised in the Chantry, have you never…?" she trailed off as she saw his lips twitch into a mischievous grin. _Oh? Is she truly asking me this?_ Alistair wondered, looking at her innocently.

"Never…? Never what? Had a good pair of shoes?" he asked, a look of amusement in his eyes.

"Oh, you know what I mean," Adeline replied with an absent wave of her hand, and his grin widened as he heard the slight, awkward hitch in the girl's voice, and the faint trace of a blush in her cheeks. _Ah, good. I'm not the only one, I guess,_ he concluded.

"I'm not sure I do. Have I…never seen a basilisk? Ate jellied ham? Have I never licked a lamppost in winter?" Alistair continued, feigning ignorance, and Adeline rolled her eyes at him.

"Now you're making fun of me," she retorted sourly, and he laughed. _Well_ _ **you**_ _started it,_ he thought as he continued to tease her, _and why can't I have a bit of fun?_ She was always making him blush – Alistair would savor turning the tables on her for once.

"Make fun of _you_ , dear lady? Perish the thought," he chuckled at her scowl. "Well, tell me: have _you_ ever licked a lamppost in winter?" Alistair asked in a sultry tone. Adeline looked at him quietly for a bit, shrugging slightly.

"No, I've never licked a lamppost in winter," she replied, folding her hands on her lap and looking into the fire, her cheeks blushing furiously as she tried to fight it down. _Alright,_ Alistair thought, _I'll tone it down a bit._

"Good. I hear it's quite painful. I remember one of the younger initiates did it on a dare, once, and there was pointing and laughing…oh, the _humanity_ ," he said dramatically, and she chuckled softly. His expression softened, and he stopped teasing the girl. "I, myself, have also never done it. That. Not that I haven't _thought_ about it, of course, but…you know," he shrugged.

"You've…never had the opportunity?" Adeline tried.

"Well, living in the Chantry, is…not exactly a life for rambunctious boys," Alistair admitted with an awkward laugh, knitting his fingers together nervously. "They taught me to be a gentleman, especially in the presence of beautiful women such as yourself. That's not so bad, is it?" he asked gently, glancing back at her. Adeline looked up at him with surprise, her cheeks reddening at his words, and she glanced away, a small smile on her lips.

"You…think I'm beautiful?" she asked nervously as she blushed, and Alistair snorted. _As if you don't know,_ he thought, shaking his head.

"Of course you are, and you _know_ it," he retorted. "You're ravishing, resourceful, and all those other things you'd probably hurt me for not saying," he listed, and Adeline let out a small breath, smiling at him.

"I would never hurt you, Alistair," she promised softly. Alistair felt his heartbeat pick up at her words, and he smiled warmly at her.

"Nor I you," he replied, his tone gentle.

oooo

Zevran watched the pair in silence from the edge of the woods – he couldn't hear what they were saying, but it seemed the two were fairly relaxed. _You would think that a pair of Grey Wardens would be more careful, what with the bounty on their heads,_ he thought as his eyes wandered through the rest of the camp, lingering on the lovely dark-haired sorceress and the copper-haired bard.

The rest of his group was waiting further in the trees while he spied on the Wardens, and he had forbidden them from lighting a campfire, despite their complaints of the cold. Zevran had picked younger recruits, inexperienced but eager to prove themselves – and what better opponent to prove yourself against than one of the fabled Grey Wardens? No assassin had ever succeeded in killing a Grey Warden; not even an Antivan Crow.

He had been eager to take this job, despite Taliesen's urgings against it, but Zevran wouldn't let himself be argued out of it – after all, he had been the only one in the entire Crow cell to bid for this job in the first place. _The real problem will be the Elf,_ he thought, looking at Adeline with chagrin. He was surprised when he had seen her – he had never expected to meet the Elf woman ever again, yet there she was. And a Grey Warden of all things.

Taliesen hadn't said much when they had met the young woman on their way to Denerim, but Zevran knew that they shared the same thought, regarding her appearance. Granted, Rinna had been taller and with a stronger build…but the resemblance was still enough to resurface memories Zevran was fighting to keep down. _Ah, fate has such a sick sense of humor,_ Zevran thought ruefully.

She would be trouble, he knew – he had been tracking and observing the strange group of travelers for a few days now, and had seen them fight off bandits and bounty hunters with little trouble. Zevran made note of the pair of Grey Wardens' fighting styles especially, trying to find weaknesses in their forms that he could exploit. _It should look like I tried, at least, in case the others survive,_ Zevran thought, going over a plan in his head.

He would wait for one of the Grey Wardens to go somewhere alone, and take them out – he would linger near the body when it was discovered, and hopefully meet his fate at the hands of one of the Wardens' companions. It would be a better death than suffering for hours – or even _days_ – at the hands of one of the Crow masters, should his intentions be discovered.

 _The old woman was wrong,_ Zevran thought with a humorless smile, thinking back to the Nevarran fortune-teller in the brothel where he had been born. _My time with the Crows will come to an end soon enough._

oOo

The days went by slowly as we made our way around the lake, our progress marked by the grand tower that had come into view in the distance. I assured Jowan that I wasn't going to bring him into Kinloch Hold itself, and he seemed relieved. I told him that we should probably make him a disguise anyway, but he said he'd be fine without one – evidently, he had something planned. He seemed a bit more confident in himself as we traveled, and he got to know the others. Alistair still didn't trust him completely, but was polite when the two spoke, or had to work together, at least.

The mage mostly kept to himself, however, practicing spells and actually getting along fairly well with Morrigan – he was fascinated with her magic, and I thought that he was trying to get her to teach him some of her spells. He also got along well with Leliana; he had never been outside of the tower before his escape, and listened eagerly to Leliana's stories of faraway places that she had seen and heard tales about. Sten had settled down a bit – he didn't glare so much – but I could hear him muttering 'saarebas' under his breath sometimes when there was mention of Jowan _or_ Morrigan; he _really_ didn't like mages, although I wasn't quite sure why.

"Adeline, that mangy dog of yours reeks," Morrigan complained one day, sitting in the cart behind me and looking at Olan with distaste as he trotted nearby, giving a happy bark at her words. "And he put another 'gift' in my pack last night," she added, and I sighed.

"Olan, ladies don't like finding animal carcasses in their small-clothes," I said to the hound, who looked up at me innocently. "Don't try that with me – I'm immune to your so-called charms," I added, and he whined softly. I rolled my eyes, glancing at Morrigan apologetically.

"Just see that it doesn't happen again," the witch grumbled, shaking her head. "And I believe that he _rolled_ in the mess before placing it in my pack," she remarked.

"…he _is_ getting a little rank," I admitted, crossing my arms and glancing down at the mabari. "If no one's opposed to it, we can set up camp a little early today, and I can wash him," I offered. No one was against this – besides Olan – so we stopped a little before sunset, setting up camp in a small clearing a little ways off the road.

"I'll be back soon," I called, nearly having to drag the mabari along with me as we headed into the woods, finding a small pond in a clearing. I rolled up my sleeves and tied up my hair, taking off my boots and placing my saber up against a tree. I kept my red-steel blade at my hip and a pair of small throwing knives strapped to my thigh – I didn't sense any darkspawn…but I just wanted to have a weapon handy. It made me feel marginally safer, at least. Olan whined, his ears down as he looked at me pleadingly, and I groaned. "Oh come on!" I said, throwing my hands in the air. "Get _over_ here you stubborn hound!" I gasped, dragging the dog into the water as he struggled.

I managed to hold the dog still, scrubbing him down with some soap I brought along; he was glaring at me the whole time in silence. "Oh don't give me that look," I huffed, rinsing him off, "and if you're clean, I'll let you sleep in my tent," I added, and he gave a low grunt, cocking his head, as if considering it. He suddenly growled, and I rolled my eyes. "It's not _that_ bad, is it? I know you don't like scents, so I made sure it wasn't perfumed soap," I told him, frowning when he glanced to his left, back towards the shore. A crow cawed in the distance, and I glanced in the direction of the noise, following Olan's gaze and starting with surprise.

A dark-skinned Elf wearing black leather armor was standing nearby, leaning against a tree and watching us. He had long, light blonde hair and intense, amber eyes that locked onto mine with such a force that I almost shivered. Along his left cheek was a curved tattoo that outlined the shape of his cheekbone, and on his right ear was a single, jeweled earring, the gemstone flashing in the fading light of the sun. I thought I recognized him from somewhere – he looked very familiar – but I couldn't quite place where I had seen him before.

He glanced down at his side, lightly placing his hand on my saber as it leaned against the tree, unsheathing the blade half-way and inspecting the glowing blue runes. I tensed, and Olan's growl grew louder. "Who…are you?" I asked warily, narrowing my eyes and placing my hand on one of my throwing knives. The man didn't answer, a slight smirk appearing on his lips as I glanced around, hearing rustling in the nearby brush.

Two crossbowmen walked out of the bushes, followed by three armored men carrying longswords. The Elf placed my saber back where he had found it, drawing a pair of long, curved blades from sheaths on his belt. _Bandits?_ I thought, watching them carefully and drawing my own blade, the red metal burning orange in the dying sunlight. _No…they're too well armored for that. Are these…more of Loghain's men?_ I thought, shifting slightly so that I was standing lightly on the balls of my feet, ready to move.

The Elf made a small clicking sound with his tongue, and the crossbowmen fired at his signal; I shifted slightly, just barely moving out of the way as the bolts shot past me, missing by a centimeter. "Olan!" I hissed under my breath, and the mabari let out a growl, dashing off into the bushes. As soon as the dog moved, the swordsmen leapt after him, and I ran forward, ducking as the crossbowmen fired again and throwing one of my knives at a swordsman, hearing his gasp of pain as my blade grazed his cheek.

The other two swordsmen ran after Olan, and I gritted my teeth, stabbing into a gap in the first swordsman's armor, blood seeping into his clothes as I pierced his armpit. He yelled in pain, going limp as I stabbed his throat, and I whirled about, eyes flashing as the Elf watched me carefully; he hadn't moved this entire time, though I had no idea why he wouldn't use my distraction to stab me in the back. I held my breath as the crossbowmen reloaded; everything seemed to slow around me as I moved as adrenaline pumped through me, and I swayed lightly left and right, the crossbow bolts missing me by a hair as the men fired again.

The Elf seemed mildly impressed by how calm I had become, grinning at me. He shifted slightly, suddenly darting forward and meeting me in a clash of steel as our blades sparked, sliding against each other with a loud, painful screech. I leapt back as I felt our blades shifting, my right hand darting out like a snake and catching a crossbow bolt before it pierced my ribcage. The crossbowmen and the Elf were startled…as was I; it had been a reflexive movement, but I hadn't expected to actually _catch_ the bolt, especially not with my off-hand.

I kicked the Elf in the stomach, more to prolong his distraction than to attack him; in the moment it took for him to recover, I cut down one of the crossbowmen, throwing the bolt that I held like a dart and piercing the other man's eye, hearing him scream in pain as he covered his face and fell over. I stomped on his throat, crushing his windpipe, and he stopped struggling.

Now it was only the two of us, walking slowly in a circle. I paused, holding my blade out defensively, and I spoke. "I don't know who you are, but I would rather not have to kill you," I said, and the Elf watched me carefully. "Run now, and I will not pursue you, nor any of your surviving companions," I added, and he seemed almost amused by my words.

"It is a little late for warnings, no?" the man spoke for the first time, his voice carrying a suave, Antivan accent. _Oh sod, I_ _ **do**_ _recognize him!_ I thought as I heard the accent, recalling our first meeting – he had been with the caravan of Antivans I had met on my way to Orzammar; Zevran, I think his name was.

"Well, I just thought I'd say it – I really don't want to kill you," I replied, giving a sigh. "…although I suppose you won't be backing down," I remarked, seeing the look in his eye. He leapt at me, our blades flashing silver and red as the sun disappeared beneath the sea of trees. He was pressing me hard, using two blades while I tried to defend with just one; whenever I tried to edge my way around the trees to get to my saber, he would pick up his pace and chase me off. _He's very good. Definitely not some common mercenary,_ I thought, watching him carefully, trying to find a pattern in his movements.

 _There! That's it!_ I thought, catching the pattern; he would attack in short bursts before defending against my counterstrike, but there was a moment before each burst where he would adjust the grip on his blades. I defended as he pressed at me, and the moment I saw his grip loosen, my right hand darted forward, grabbing his wrist and wrenching it back, forcing his fingers open. I grabbed the knife from his hands, leaping back and pointing the blades at him.

He chuckled slightly, twirling his remaining knife lightly in his hand. He smirked, making another clicking sound with his tongue, and my eyes darted to the trees nearby, looking out for more assassins – did he have more men in waiting? _Sod!_ I thought with chagrin, staggering back as the Elf darted forward – I had fallen for such a simple trick. He had sheathed his blade, grabbing my wrists and pinning them above my head as he held me to a tree, standing on my toes so I couldn't thrash around.

Zevran grinned at me as I glowered up at him, struggling to get one of my limbs loose. He turned his head to the right, and I watched as he pulled a large needle from a strap along his bicep, holding it delicately in his teeth. "Hold still, and this won't hurt a bit," he assured me through his teeth, leaning forward to prick my neck – the needle must have been poisoned. I shrank back as far as I could, swearing under my breath as I struggled against him.

I flicked my wrists, dropping the blades and trying to hit his head – he reflexively jerked back from the falling knives, pursing his lips as he held the needle in his mouth like a toothpick. I hooked my toe under Zevran's blade, kicking it into the air and catching it in my left hand, watching the assassin warily as he took the needle from his mouth, tucking it away before taking a slow step backwards.

I watched him carefully as he moved, and I realized that he was slowly edging his way towards my saber, which still lay nearby. As he leapt for the blade, I threw his knife back at him, and the decorative stone on the pommel of the knife cracked him across the head, laying him out. He fell to the ground with a thump, and I glanced around, making sure that there weren't any others waiting for me to let my guard down.

I stared at the limp body before me, walking over carefully and kneeling down, checking for a pulse and letting out a small sigh of relief – he was still alive, just unconscious. I glanced up at the sound of rustling through the bushes, and the rest of the group ran out into the clearing, looking around at the bodies that lay scattered about.

"How nice of you to finally join us," I remarked as I found my blade in the grass, sheathing the knife and crossing my arms, glancing down at the unconscious Elf.

"Are you alright?" Alistair asked, walking up to me and checking me over worriedly. I let out a soft breath, smiling at his anxious expression.

"Yes. So I take it you handled the swordsmen chasing my dog?" I asked, and Leliana nodded.

"Olan came running into camp, barking and snarling; no one knew what was going on, and then two armored men came crashing through the bushes after him," Leliana replied, patting the dog's head as he wagged his tail.

"Perhaps we should not have been so concerned," Morrigan remarked, prodding one of the dead crossbowmen with her foot.

"Well, it was nice that you came, at least," I replied, kneeling next to the unconscious Elf and rolling him over. "So…do we have any rope?" I added.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	17. Chapter 17: Smooth Operator

Chapter 17: Smooth Operator

Author's note:

I think this song is a fitting theme for dearest Zevran, don't you?

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

I had Alistair drag the Elf to a nearby stone and tie him to it firmly. We were a little ways from camp – I wanted privacy for this interrogation – and the others reluctantly agreed to leave me alone with the man, making sure once more that he would be unable to move once he was awake.

"Time to wake up," I murmured, patting the Elf's cheek lightly, and his brow furrowed slightly as he came-to, moaning gently.

"Mmm…what? I…oh," he breathed, opening his eyes and glancing around, shifting in his bindings and cringing in pain – there was a large bump on the side of his head where he had been hit with the knife's pommel. He stopped moving once he noticed me, my own eyes hard as I sat in front of him, watching him warily.

"Welcome back," I greeted, my tone neutral.

"I rather thought I would wake up dead. Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven't killed me yet," the assassin observed, and I shrugged, lightly twirling my knife, the blade reflecting the firelight at the Elf's back.

"That could be easily rectified," I replied, pointing at him with the tip of the knife, and he gave me a charming smile, glancing at the pile of weapons and armor by my side – I had thoroughly searched him for hidden weapons, and had taken everything but his clothing and boots.

"Of that I have no doubt. Your skills have improved tenfold," he complimented. "If you haven't killed me, however, you must have kept me alive for some purpose, yes?" he asked, and I gave him a crooked grin, my green eyes flashing threateningly.

"I decided I wanted to torture you, first," I answered, plucking one of his poisoned needles from its pouch, holding it gingerly with the tips of my nails, and he raised an eyebrow, a smirk spreading across his lips.

"Ohhh, so you kept me around to have a bit of fun, did you?" he smiled, not seeming very threatened; it didn't help that this was the very man who had saved my life only a few months ago. "Hmm. But the purpose behind torture is usually to interrogate, yes? In that case, despite the potential for fun, perhaps I'll save you a bit of time and get right to the point," he interjected.

"Ah…what a shame," I said as I feinted disappointment, shrugging and placing the needle away.

"My name is Zevran, if you recall. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly," Zevran introduced himself, and I crossed my arms.

" _I'm_ rather happy you failed," I retorted, and he nodded.

"So would I be, in your shoes," he replied. "For me, however, it sets a rather poor precedent, doesn't it? Getting captured by a target seems a tad detrimental to one's budding assassin career," he added.

"What are the Antivan Crows?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. Zevran seemed to notice this, and I saw him trying not to smile.

"An order of assassins, of course. Out of Antiva. I suppose you wouldn't hear much of them out here, but where I come from we're rather infamous," he explained, and my eyes widened in surprise. _An assassin? All the way from_ _ **Antiva?**_ _But that's hundreds of miles away! Loghain must be getting desperate to hire out of the country._

"What, you came all the way from _Antiva_ to assassinate us?" I asked incredulously, and Zevran shook his head. _Wait…but no, that can't be right. He was here_ _ **before**_ _the battle…unless Loghain had planned that too? He_ _ **is**_ _a master strategist, after all,_ I thought, puzzled…and to be honest, a little impressed by the amount of forethought on Loghain's part. If this _was_ indeed his plan.

"Not precisely. I was in the neighborhood when the offer came. The Crows get around, you see," he replied, and I nodded. _Ah, okay. That makes more sense…although now I'm curious about what he was doing heading to Denerim._

"Evidently. Who hired you to kill us? I could probably guess, but…enlighten me," I continued, watching him carefully as his eyes went over me slowly, taking in every detail, and perhaps wondering how he could escape.

"A rather taciturn fellow in the capital…Loghain, I think his name was? Yes, that's it," Zevran replied, and I nodded as he confirmed my suspicion.

"When were you to see him next?" I asked, and Zevran shrugged.

"I wasn't. If I had succeeded, I would have returned home and the Crows would have informed your Loghain of the results…if he didn't already know," he explained. "If I had failed, I would be dead. Or I _should_ be, at least as far as the Crows are concerned. No need to see Loghain then," he added, and I felt a small smile on my lips.

" _If_ you had failed?" I repeated, and he grinned.

"What can I say, ah? I am an eternal optimist," Zevran replied with a grin. "Although the chances of succeeding at this point seem a bit slim, don't they?" He laughed, settling down and smiling awkwardly at me. "Ah, no, I don't suppose you'd find that funny, would you?"

"How much were you paid for this?" I wondered, and he shrugged.

" _I_ wasn't paid anything. The _Crows_ , however, were paid quite handsomely. Or so I understand," he answered. I supposed I should have been flattered that Loghain would pay so much for our heads, really – it meant that he thought we were a legitimate threat. "Which does make me about as poor as a Chantry mouse, come to think of it. Being an Antivan Crow isn't for the ambitious, to be perfectly honest," Zevran added, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Then why _are_ you one?" I asked, a bit confused; did he do it just for the thrill of killing?

"Well, aside from a distinct lack of ambition, I suppose it's because I wasn't given much of a choice. The Crows bought me young – I was a bargain, too, or so I'm led to believe," he explained. "But don't let my sad story influence you. The Crows aren't so bad. They keep one well supplied; wine, women, men. Whatever you happen to fancy," he listed, making eyes at me. "Though the whole severance package is garbage, let me tell you. If you were considering joining, I'd really think twice about it," Zevran added and I gave a small snort.

"Thanks. I'll take that under advisement," I replied sarcastically, and the assassin gave me a charming smile, winking.

"You seem like a bright girl. I'm sure you've other options," he said.

"Hmm…so you're _not_ loyal to Loghain?" I continued, and Zevran shook his head.

"I have no idea what his issues are with you," the assassin admitted. "The usual, I imagine; you threaten his power, yes? Beyond that, no, I'm not loyal to him. I was contracted to perform a service," he continued, and I could tell that he was speaking the truth.

"And now that you've failed that service?" I prodded.

"Well, that's between Loghain and the Crows. And between the Crows and myself," he replied.

"And between you and me?" I added, and he smirked.

"Isn't that what we're establishing now?" I watched him quietly for a few moments, trying to hold his intense gaze as he looked into my eyes. It was like staring into a blazing fire, and I glanced away, unable to take it.

"Why are you telling me all this?" I asked, trying to calm myself.

"Why not? I wasn't paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale, precisely," he answered, and I looked at him scathingly.

"Were you paid to talk my ear off, then?" I retorted, and Zevran smiled charmingly, narrowing his eyes at me.

"Consider it something I'm throwing in for free," he winked.

"There's no reason for me to believe anything you say," I remarked, glancing back towards the camp and making a face – Olan and Sten were…growling at each other, or something. Zevran saw my look, raising an eyebrow as I shook my head, muttering 'bunch of weirdoes' under my breath.

"Oh, very true. Thus there's no reason for me _not_ to tell you everything, is there?" Zevran argued, and I sighed, seeing his reasoning – there really _wasn't_ any reason for him to keep it a secret, since he wasn't loyal to Loghain.

"…fair enough," I relented, jumping with surprise as Sten suddenly roared, and Olan barked furiously. I stared at them with wide, startled eyes, hand over my heart, and I scowled, shaking my head and glaring at the two. "Will you two keep it down?" I shouted, and Sten glanced over.

"Very well," he replied, and I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose in exasperation.

"Ugh, honestly; I'm trying to _interrogate_ someone here," I muttered, stabbing my knife sourly into the dirt, and Zevran looked slightly amused by my frustration. I looked at him for a long time, and he seemed to notice the conflict in my eyes. "You know…I'll admit, you've got me in a bind," I murmured, pulling a knee up to my chin and wrapping my arms around my leg. "I really _don't_ want to kill you – it'd be rather poor payment for helping me – but you also _did_ just try to assassinate me. I'm afraid I might not have a choice," I added. I glanced down at the knife by my foot, picking it up and looking at Zevran before sticking it tip-first into the dirt again, placing my index-finger on the pommel.

Zevran was silent for a few moments before clearing his throat softly, and I glanced back at him, seeing that he had something to say. "As it is, if you're done with the interrogation, I've a proposal for you. If you're of a mind," Zevran offered, and I watched him intently.

"Go on, I'm listening," I replied, nodding for him to continue.

"Well, here's the thing. I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works," the assassin began. "If you don't kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living…and you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve _you_ , instead," he offered, and I stared at him in bewilderment for a moment before I scowled, my jaw stiffening in anger. _Oh, you've_ _ **got**_ _to be kidding me. You tried to kill me less than an_ _ **hour**_ _ago!_

"You must think I'm royally stupid," I said sharply, and he rolled his eyes at my angry look.

"I think you're royally tough to _kill_. And utterly gorgeous," he replied smoothly, his amber eyes flashing in the faint light. "…not that I think you'll respond to simple flattery. But there are worse things in life than serving the whims of a deadly sex goddess," he added, and I snorted, unimpressed.

"Charming. And what's to stop you from finishing the job later?" I retorted, and he gave a shrug, his eyes steady as he answered.

"To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child. I think I've paid my worth back to them, plus tenfold," he replied, and I managed to keep my expression level as he made sad eyes at me, trying to garner some sympathy. "The only way _out_ , however, is to sign up with someone they can't touch. Even if I _did_ kill you now, they might kill me just on principle for failing the first time. Honestly, I'd rather take my chances with you," Zevran finished.

"Won't they come after you anyway? I'm not exactly the most… _intimidating_ of people," I admitted reluctantly, and the Elf shrugged.

"Possibly. I happen to know their wily ways, however. I can protect myself, as well as you – not that you seem to need much help. And if not…well, it's not as if I had many alternatives to start with, is it?" he replied.

"Why would I want your service?" I asked; he must have seen the hint of interest in my eyes, a small smile on his lips as he answered.

"Why? Because I am skilled at many things, from fighting to stealth and picking locks. I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more… _sophisticated_ , now that my attempts have failed," he explained, and his smile turned into a smirk as he saw me bite. "I could also stand around and look pretty, if you prefer. Warm your bed? Fend off unwanted suitors? No?" he added in a sultry tone, and rolled my eyes at him.

"Is this _before_ or _after_ you stab me in the back?" I asked sarcastically, and he clucked his tongue at me.

"Tsk. These things you say, they must drive the men back home simply wild!" he remarked.

"Why do you think I was running from Denerim?" I replied with a snort. He seemed curious at my words, a hint of interest in his eyes.

"So what shall it be? I'll even shine armor. You won't find a better deal, I promise," Zevran urged. I glanced up as Alistair approached, watching quietly and staying out of the assassin's line of sight.

"Can I expect the same amount of loyalty from you?" I asked, and Zevran made a face at me, seeming almost offended by my question.

"I happen to be a _very_ loyal person," he began, "…up until the point where someone expects me to _die_ for failing," he added, his tone softening. "That's not a fault, really, is it? I mean, unless you're the sort who would do the same thing. In which case I…don't come very well recommended, I suppose," he finished quietly, looking at me with large, pleading eyes.

I watched him in silence as his lip trembled, and he gave me his best sad face. _Oh Maker's_ _ **mercy.**_ _How is it that everyone in Ferelden seems to know my weakness?_ I thought with chagrin. I finally let out a loud groan, shaking my head and glaring at him. "Fine. I accept your offer," I muttered. "Just _stop_ that!" I added, pointing sternly at him, and he perked up immediately.

" _What?!_ You're taking the _assassin_ with us now? Does that really seem like a good idea?" Alistair exclaimed, staring at me incredulously.

"Well," I began, holding up a hand and counting out on my fingers, "we've got…a Qunari murderer, two apostates – one of which is a _blood_ mage – and a _mass_ murderer for a leader," I replied, and Alistair sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And remember, we've both been accused of regicide," I added.

"That's hardly…" he trailed off, looking between Zevran and myself. "Your case was in self-defense! You're not an _assassin!_ " he argued, and I rolled my eyes.

"That just means he'll be useful," I countered. Alistair was furious now, and I was starting to feel bad – I could see that it was taking every effort for him not to start shouting at me that this was a horrible idea.

"You haven't thought this through, have you?" he accused, and I scowled.

"Alistair, Zevran saved my life! I can't just kill him in cold blood!" I exclaimed in exasperation, and the man froze.

"I…he _what?_ You _know_ him?" he asked incredulously, staring at the Elf assassin.

"Oh… Uh…" I mumbled. I had forgotten about that part. Zevran was looking between the two of us with interest, his eyes almost glowing with amusement.

"It's true, although it happened long ago and far away. And it was her dignity I saved as well," the Elf chimed in with a wink, and I groaned, sliding my hands along my face in exasperation.

" _Not helping,_ " I ground through my teeth, and Zevran smirked. "Listen, if he betrays us, I kill him. Easy as that," I added to Alistair.

"That's an empty threat and you _know_ it," he scowled, and I crossed my arms.

"I don't make empty threats," I retorted. Alistair held my gaze in silence, seeing that he wasn't going to talk me out of this. He threw his hands in the air in defeat, stalking back to the rest of the camp in silence. _Oh great. Now he's mad at me._ _ **Again**_ _._ I watched him go, letting out a soft sigh and massaging my temples. _I need to make it up to him somehow. Ugh, why am I always making such an_ _ **ass**_ _of myself?_ I thought with chagrin, glancing back at Zevran as he spoke.

"Thank you, dear lady. You won't regret this," Zevran thanked me, looking up at me as I stood, gathering up his gear and folding it into his armor. "I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation…this I swear," he promised, bowing his head.

"Hmm…good. You're still staying tied up until tomorrow, though – I'm not _that_ much of a pushover," I said absently, patting his cheek and whistling to Olan. "Watch him," I ordered, and the dog barked, sitting down in front of Zevran and looking at him curiously.

I tossed Zevran's gear into the back of the wagon, running my hands through my hair as I looked towards Alistair – he was sitting by the fire, glaring at the flames as he absently rolled his worry token over his knuckles, and I hurriedly looked down as he noticed me watching. I walked awkwardly past, ignoring Leliana's curious look as she glanced between us, retreating to my tent to hide from his accusing eyes.

Later that night, though, I rolled over on my bedroll, sitting up as something came to mind; Zevran was from Antiva. As such, he'd be freezing his ass off in this weather – it was still a bit cold for early summer. I stood quietly, grabbing my spare blanket and walking out into the dark camp. Morrigan was on watch, but she didn't seem to notice – or probably care – as I slipped by. Zevran was asleep, but I could see him shivering slightly. I knelt next to the Elf and placed the blanket around him, covering him the best that I could when he was still tied up. I felt him stir, and I stood and walked away hurriedly before he woke, returning to my tent and curling back up next to Olan.

" _You're_ not mad at me, are you boy?" I asked the dog softly. He grunted and nuzzled my cheek as I rested my head on his back. I smiled slightly and pulled the blanket over myself, feeling him lay his chin against my hip as I closed my eyes. "Thanks Olan."

oooo

The next morning was warmer, and I stood by my tent, stretching and letting out a small yawn, running a hand through my messy hair. I walked sleepily over to Zevran, who had woken up as well, and untied the ropes, unbinding him. "It wasn't too cold last night, was it?" I asked, rubbing my eyes and looking up at him sleepily, leaning against the tall rock and resting my head on my arms.

"No. You are concerned?" Zevran asked curiously, and I shrugged. He was glancing between me and the blanket he had folded and placed nearby, and a small smile spread across his lips as I looked innocently away.

"Well it's hardly an Antivan summer. And I can't have you catching cold if you're going to be of use to me," I replied, and he seemed amused by my response. "Your gear's in the cart, and I'll set you up with a tent tonight," I added, and he crossed his arms.

"And I was hoping you would ask for some companionship, after that little spat last evening," Zevran remarked, and I scowled.

"Ha-ha, very funny," I snorted. "Don't make me regret sparing you." I gave him a pointed look, and he raised his hands in peace, smiling slightly. "Hmm…looks like Alistair's making breakfast," I murmured, heading towards the cook fire and sitting down.

"Morning," Alistair greeted, and I nodded, sitting across from him. Olan trotted over to me, a doggy grin on his face as he barked. I wrapped an arm around the dog's shoulders, scratching his thick neck as he panted, his stubby tail wagging.

"What is it, boy?" I asked, and Olan grunted at me, nuzzling my cheek. "How far do you think we are from the Circle tower?" I asked Alistair, absently playing with Olan's ear, the dog grunting and shaking his head, his short ears flapping around and slapping me in the face. "Ow," I chuckled, and the dog barked cheerfully. Zevran joined us, sitting a respectful distance away at Alistair's distrustful glare.

"A week, maybe," he replied, and I groaned.

"I swear, if we get back to Redcliffe and find it a smoldering ruin…" I muttered darkly, shaking my head. "What's this?" I asked as Alistair handed me a bowl of brown mush. "I thought we had stew last night?"

"It's _gruel_ ," he replied, and I nodded, biting back a snort; he had boiled the oats too long, and the food was now a uniform, light-brown pudding.

"Right. That was my…second guess," I said, and he sighed, still a bit peeved with my decision to keep Zevran with us, it seemed. I gazed at him quietly, my expression apologetic, and he let out a soft breath, shaking his head and smiling helplessly at my worried look.

I ate breakfast without complaint, grateful that it wasn't _me_ doing the cooking – Dad had always been the cook of the family, and making tea and roasting meat was about the extent of my skill. "As a Crow, you were an assassin in Antiva, right? Professionally?" Alistair asked, glancing over at Zevran. The Elf raised an eyebrow at the question, amused by Alistair's curiosity, despite his mistrustful glare.

"Technically speaking, I still am. Somewhat between jobs, as it turns out," he replied as he indicated our camp.

"So how much did you charge to…you know… _kill_ someone? Was it very expensive? Did it depend on who they were?" Alistair prompted, and Zevran smiled.

"Such curiosity. Are you thinking of having someone murdered, my friend Alistair? Or are you considering a career change?" the Elf teased, and Alistair made a face at him.

"No, neither. It just seems odd to me that you could make a living doing that. Or that you would need an entire guild just to handle so many…jobs," he replied.

"Ahhh. Assassination in Antiva is a tradition. It is more efficient than an election, as we say. 'Politics and death go together like kisses and love-making'," Zevran recalled an expression. "It costs a great deal depending on how experienced the Crow is…and how difficult the target is to kill. You? I would charge perhaps five thousand andris for you," Zevran added, looking Alistair up and down with a critical eye.

"Five thousand andris? Is that a lot?" Alistair asked, curious despite himself.

"Mmm…not really, no," the Elf smirked at the look of chagrin on the Grey Warden's face. Once everyone else was up and about, I gave Zevran a quick introduction before we packed up camp, moving out.

oooo

Morrigan had transformed into a cat, sitting up on Dancia's back as the horse walked, balancing lightly and looking up at the Circle tower in the distance. Leliana was writing something in her journal as she sat in the cart behind me, Olan curled up next to her as he took a nap. Sten walked a little bit to the left of the wagon, and Alistair and Zevran were walking behind it; the assassin rested an arm against the cart and looked absently at the scenery, and Alistair glowered at him, still suspicious of him. Jowan walked in front of Sten, looking immensely uncomfortable under the Qunari's glare, and I gave him an apologetic look.

I watched the black cat sitting on Dancia's back, and she glanced at me, noticing my look. "Was life in the Wilds very lonely?" I asked her, and she twitched her ears, hopping into the seat next to me, the tip of her tail flicking slightly as she sat.

"At times, perhaps," Morrigan replied, transforming back into her human form. "A world full of people and buildings and things was all very foreign to me. If I wished companionship, I ran with the wolves and flew with the birds. If I spoke, 'twas to the trees," she added.

"That sounds wonderful. So…peaceful," I remarked, and she shrugged.

"For a time. But one can only remain a child for so long," Morrigan said, leaning back against the driver's seat, catching a leaf as it drifted down from a tree nearby. She twirled it in her fingers absently for a moment before letting it fall by the side of the road.

"I recall the first time I crept beyond the edge of the Wilds. I did so in animal form, remaining in the shadows and watching these strange townsfolk from afar," she began. "I happened upon a noblewoman by her carriage, adorned in sparkling garments the likes of which I had never before seen. I was dazzled; this, to me, seemed what true wealth and beauty must be," Morrigan recalled, a distant look in her eyes. "I snuck up behind her and stole a hand mirror from the carriage. 'Twas encrusted in gold and crystalline gemstones, and I hugged it to my chest with delight as I sped back to the Wilds," she described, and I frowned as her expression saddened slightly.

"I can't imagine Flemeth was pleased," I remarked, and she nodded.

"She was not," Morrigan replied. "Flemeth was furious with me; I was a child and had not yet come into my full power, and I had risked discovery for the sake of a pretty bauble. To teach me a lesson, Flemeth took the mirror and smashed it upon the ground. I was heartbroken."

"But you were just a child," I argued, and she shrugged.

"And a foolish one. Flemeth was right to break me of my fascination. Beauty and love are fleeting and have no meaning. _Survival_ has meaning. _Power_ has meaning. Without those lessons I would not be here today, as difficult as they might have been," Morrigan said firmly.

"Her lessons made you stronger, didn't they?" I remarked, and she nodded.

"They did, indeed. To return to your original question, perhaps my time in the Wilds was indeed lonely. But such was how it had to be," Morrigan said, folding her hands on her lap. "I find myself at times wondering what might have become of the girl with the beautiful, golden mirror…but such fantasies have no place amidst reality," she added.

We took a short break around noon, and Sten and I walked with Dancia down towards the shore of the lake, letting the horse drink and nibble on some of the short grass that grew near the trees. I glanced up at the quiet Qunari as he looked towards the tower, seeming a bit tense.

"Do you find Ferelden very strange?" I asked him as we walked back, and he looked at me, shrugging slightly.

"To put it lightly," he replied. "No one has a place here. Your farmers wish to be merchants. The merchants dream of being nobles, and the nobles become warriors. No one is content to be who they are," he added.

"Don't the Qunari ever want to change their lot in life?" I wondered, and he seemed perplexed that I would ask something like that.

"What does that accomplish? The farmer who buys a shop is never a merchant; he is always a farmer-turned-merchant. He carries his old life with him as a turtle carries its shell," Sten remarked.

"But that makes the turtle stronger," I tried, patting Dancia's neck as the horse snorted, nuzzling my shoulder with her velvet snout.

"Does it? It's also his weakness. If he stumbles and falls over, it pins him on his back. It is better to armor yourself with no more than what you need. One life, one duty," Sten replied firmly.

"I suppose that's true," I admitted, hearing the wisdom in his words. "You…sound a bit homesick," I observed, and Sten glanced ahead, a hint of longing in his eyes.

"…Perhaps. It's strange to be in a crowd and hear a language that is not your own. To see faces that are and aren't like yours. I miss the smells of Seheron. Tea and incense and the sea. Ferelden smells of wet dogs," he rumbled in his quiet voice, and I smirked slightly.

"You left out rotting garbage," I added teasingly, and he glanced back at me.

"True. I was trying to forget that part," he replied.

"Is there anything you _do_ like about Ferelden?" I wondered, running a hand through Dancia's mane. I patted her side as she walked back towards the path ahead of us; apparently we were walking too slowly for her tastes.

"There is…interesting food here," he relented. "You have a thing…it doesn't have a word in the Qunari tongue. Little baked things, like bread, but sweet, and crumbly," Sten described, and I bit my lip, trying not to grin at the Qunari.

"I never would have thought you'd have a sweet tooth," I remarked in surprise, and he looked at me oddly.

"I don't know what that means. None of my teeth are sweet," he replied, puzzled by the expression.

"It's an expression – it means that you like sweet things," I explained, "and they're called cookies," I added, and he nodded.

"We have no such things in our lands. This should be remedied," he said, and I smiled slightly as we neared the wagon.

"I'll keep that in mind," I replied. As we came over, I caught the tail-end of Leliana and Zevran's conversation.

"…that is a very personal question," Leliana said, her tone slightly annoyed.

"I mean no offense. I simply offer my services should you ever feel the need for…release," Zevran replied, and I felt my face redden in mortification. _Maker's mercy, what have I walked in on?_ I thought with dread, looking between the two.

"Let me think about it, then. Should every man in Ferelden suddenly die, you may even have your chance," Leliana retorted, getting back into the wagon.

"A-ha! Progress!" Zevran grinned at her, leaning against the side and glancing at me as I walked by, smirking at my red face.

Alistair helped me hitch Dancia, and I glanced at him as I climbed back into the driver's seat. "Do I want to know what that was about?" I asked in an undertone, nodding slightly towards the back of the cart.

"No, you don't. _Trust_ me," Alistair replied, a similarly embarrassed look on his face.

oOo

Zevran was perplexed; he had tried to take Adeline's life, but instead of killing him, she had not only spared him, but had also given him protection against the Crows. He knew that she didn't trust him completely, of course – when they had set up camp that evening, she had taken him to the side and had spoken quietly to him, making his situation clear.

"Now, you've gathered how things work around here, I take it?" she had asked, and Zevran said it was so. Adeline was the leader of the group, although she herself remarked that she used the term quite loosely; her job, she said, was to keep them on the right course – ending the Blight – and to make sure none of them died. Other than that, they could do as they wished, so long as it didn't involve killing each other.

"But let me make something absolutely clear," Adeline had said, and Zevran nodded, enjoying the way that the petite woman looked when she was trying to be intimidating. "If you double-cross us, three things will happen. One, I'll have gotten what I deserve," she began wryly, "two, either Alistair or I will be dead," she continued, "and three, whoever is left will give you a long, painful death. I don't know what Alistair will do, but I can promise that you will be _begging_ me to kill you before I'm through."

Perhaps she _was_ rather intimidating at times – Zevran wondered whether it would have been less risky to remain with the Crows. However, he had no plan on betraying his benefactor – from what he could tell, she was more curious than wary of him, but the other Grey Warden – Alistair – gave him icy looks whenever Zevran saw him.

 _Ah, Ferelden hospitality,_ the Elf thought with a grin one evening, shaking his head as he warmed his hands over the campfire. Alistair had been giving him the evil eye for some time now, and the Grey Warden narrowed his eyes at the assassin's sudden smile.

"What are you smirking at?" Alistair asked suspiciously.

"I have come up with the perfect plan to murder you while you sleep, my good friend Alistair," the assassin joked, his tone sarcastic. _Perhaps I should not joke with this one,_ he thought, trying to play it off with an innocent smile.

"Cute. Just know that I'll be watching you," Alistair muttered, recognizing the joke but not finding it funny in the least. Zevran smiled charmingly at him, glancing around camp and observing the other members of the group.

The red-haired woman, Leliana, seemed nice enough, if a little guarded; she was an assassin as well – Zevran could tell just by looking at her – but the others didn't seem to know. Jowan, the emaciated mage, seemed to be a rather nervous fellow, who nearly jumped at the sight of his own shadow…and not without good reason – Zevran could spot a torture victim from a mile away. The dark-haired enchantress, Morrigan, regarded him with suspicion and contempt, and the quiet Qunari, Sten, regarded him with…well, with disdain, as far as Zevran could tell – he wasn't exactly the most expressive. The only one who seemed to be openly friendly with him – besides Adeline – was the dog, and that was because Adeline had ordered the hound to be polite to him.

Zevran lay down in his tent – the group had a few spares in case their tents were damaged – and stared at the ceiling, smiling slightly. _Ah, perhaps my luck has not abandoned me after all,_ he thought. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the night; small crickets chirruped in the grasses, and an owl hooted softly in the trees. _Such a strange group of people…_ he mused drifting off as he relaxed.

Zevran's eyes flicked open – a sound had caught his attention. Heavy breathing, and a sharp cry of alarm. He heard soft sobbing, and he sat up slowly, looking around – the camp was dark, and he realized that he must have dozed off. He moved his tent flap slightly so he could see outside, watching as Adeline came out of her tent, her shoulders tense. She walked around the smoldering remains of the fire slowly, her hair cast dull copper in the moonlight, and she said something softly to Alistair, who had been keeping watch.

"…another nightmare…" Zevran could hear her say, and he listened, curious. "I must be very sensitive to it…"

"It's probably due to the Blight. Over time, maybe you'll be able to block it out," Alistair murmured, not sounding very sure of himself.

"…ugh…" Adeline muttered, shaking her head. "That dragon needs to die. Very soon." _Dragon?_ Zevran thought, even more curious now. _Are they referring to the archdemon?_

"Well, short of waltzing through the entire darkspawn horde and tapping it on the nose, there's not much we can do right now. Killing the archdemon _is_ the plan though. Good to know you're on board," Alistair replied, smiling slightly at her. Adeline laughed – a soft, musical sound – patting Alistair's shoulder lightly.

"You always know just what to say to cheer me up," she murmured gratefully, bidding him goodnight before returning to her tent.

A few hours later, Zevran woke again, hearing quick, startled breaths and soft whimpering. He sat up and muttered something in Antivan, shaking his head. He went through his things, picking out a small vial filled with red liquid and uncorking it, pausing as he was about to drink – it was a sleeping draught, strong enough that a few drops would put someone into a deep sleep. The side-effects were rather vivid dreams…but at least they weren't nightmares. _Hmm…_ Zevran mused, looking at the liquid and glancing up as he heard another soft whine.

 _Perhaps I should do_ _ **all**_ _of us a favor,_ he thought, peeking out of the tent. Alistair had switched watches with Morrigan, who was busy taking notes in a small book as she examined a few different herbs. _Good job keeping watch,_ Zevran thought with a smirk, gliding silently out of his tent and slipping into Adeline's. As soon as he entered the tent, Zevran noticed the faint smell of cinnamon that permeated the air. _Oh? Interesting choice. I did not think she would be one to wear perfume,_ the Elf mused, glancing oddly at Adeline's sleeping form.

The girl was curled up next to her mabari, her brow furrowed slightly and her skin covered in a thin layer of cold sweat. She was trembling, and she gave a quiet whine, her fingers twitching. Zevran didn't consider himself a sympathetic man, but the girl had been kind to him…and he knew a thing or two about night terrors.

He uncorked the vial of liquid, leaning very slowly over the shivering Elf, parting her lips and carefully dripping a few drops onto her tongue. Slowly, a change came over her, and she let out a long sigh, settling down, and even smiling a bit in her sleep as she relaxed. _There. Now everyone will get some sleep,_ Zevran thought, gently patting her cheek. The assassin returned to his tent unnoticed and bundling himself up, finding Ferelden unpleasantly cool, even in the early summer.

oOo

In the following days, as we came nearer to the tower, the stone structure rising high above the trees, I noticed that Sten seemed subtly tenser. I wondered if something had happened to him around here; I didn't know how long he had been in Ferelden before he was caged by the Chantry – perhaps he had run into trouble around this area. Jowan was tense as well – understandable, given his history with the Circle, but he said that a bit of tension was worth it if we could solve the situation in Redcliffe with as few deaths as possible.

A few days ago, I had woken up feeling unusually refreshed, and I realized that I hadn't had any dreams at all. The next few nights, however, I had been having…bizarre dreams. Nothing frightening – not the archdemon – but I had woken up in the middle of the night, startled and bewildered. I remembered fragments of the dreams; sitting in the crow's nest of a sailing ship that was flying through the sky…having a tea party with a talking hare, a dormouse and a lunatic in a top hat…and sitting at a table playing Diamondback with a group of dogs.

 _And last night…_ I thought, trying not to make a face as memories of the dream resurfaced. It had been a rather… _vivid_ dream…involving Alistair…Maker… I pinched myself as I felt my eyes glaze over, praying that I wasn't drooling or anything. After I had woken from _that_ dream, I hadn't been able to get a wink of sleep the rest of the night.

Alistair must have noticed that I looked a little tired that day, because he offered to drive the cart while I took a rest. "You don't have to do that," I argued gently, though secretly I was grateful for the offer. I almost couldn't look him in the eye, and I hoped that I wasn't acting too jittery around him.

"You look worn out, Adeline," Alistair reasoned, and I made a show of being reluctant, climbing into the back of the cart and pulling a blanket around my shoulders, covering my head so that I didn't have to see him. I was soon asleep, and deep in a dream.

 _I stood with my back against the wall as he leaned over me, breath coming in small, excited gasps. I stared up at Alistair, his eyes dark as he looked back at me, and I closed my eyes as he leaned in, kissing me. I shivered as waves of pleasure went through me, and I kissed back, grabbing at his hair as our kisses became more aggressive. We pressed hard against each other, gasping for breath as we leaned against the wall. My body fit perfectly against his, as if they were shaped to match one another, and I sighed as he kissed my throat, his hands running down my back and resting lightly on my–_

I jolted awake as the wagon hit a bump, and I stared about, startled. _Sod, not again…_ I almost groaned, feeling the heat coming off my neck. Leliana glanced over at my sudden movement, seeing that my face was beet-red, and she grinned. "Have a nice dream?" she teased, and I cleared my throat awkwardly, trying to calm down. Zevran seemed to notice it as well, and had an odd, smug look on his face.

"Uh…yeah. Nice…nice dream…" I murmured absently, taking a few slow breaths. Leliana continued to grin slyly at me, and I covered my head with the blanket, going back to sleep and hoping for a dream about the archdemon.

oOo

Jowan had gained back some weight in the last few days – he was still very thin, but not dangerously so, and he had begun to build up his endurance with the constant walking. He felt much better now; better than he had in a long time, he realized – he actually felt his mana pool expanding slowly as he regained his strength. _It's the blood magic,_ he assumed – as his body grew stronger, the magic that came from his life-force would follow suit…or at least, that was his theory.

"So, Jowan," Zevran said, speaking to the nervous mage, and the man nodded, indicating that he was listening. "You are a Circle mage, yes? From the tower?" the Elf asked, nodding towards the structure, and Jowan nodded.

"Until not too long ago, yes," he replied.

"So is it true what they say about mages…with the robes…?" Zevran asked, and Jowan raised an eyebrow.

"With the…oh!" he realized what Zevran was probably asking – given that this was Zevran – and he let out a laugh. "I don't know if it's true or not…but it could be. I _do_ remember hearing odd sounds in the library from time to time…" Jowan recalled, and Zevran laughed.

"So what was it like, living there, in the tower?" the Elf prodded, and Jowan shrugged.

"My opinion's rather biased," Jowan remarked. "I always felt like I was…trapped."

As Jowan described life in the Circle tower to Zevran, Leliana leaned over the back of the driver's seat and watched Alistair. She hadn't known him for very long, but he was…surprisingly hard to read. Leliana hadn't really put much thought into it at first – she always assumed he was just a nice boy, following Adeline around like an eager puppy – but as she tried to figure him out, she found that he was quite different from her initial assumption. He was very disciplined – it came with being a warrior, and a Templar besides – but he was also quite good at keeping his emotions hidden from the others. At least, for the most part; Leliana noticed that he opened up when he was with Adeline, and was much more expressive.

"You're still mad at her," Leliana remarked, and Alistair jumped; he hadn't noticed how close she was, and he made a face. He could never get used to how quietly the woman moved…nor would Adeline, he supposed – sometimes, he would see the Elf suddenly leap into the air like a frightened cat, with Leliana standing behind her, nearly in tears as she laughed and apologized at the same time.

"I'm not…" he saw that Leliana wasn't going to buy his excuses, and he let out a sigh. "Alright, maybe I'm still a little… _annoyed_. Not mad, though," he admitted. "She's just…" Alistair lowered his voice, "I think she's just too trusting. I never thought she'd be so open, after what she's been through," he murmured, and Leliana raised an eyebrow.

"What she's been through?" the girl echoed, and Alistair shook his head.

"Not my place to tell," he replied, and Leliana respected his silence.

"Well…perhaps she is just a very good judge of character," Leliana suggested. Alistair pursed his lips, glancing back at the pile of blankets where Adeline was sleeping. "And perhaps, in Jowan's case, it is your Templar instinct speaking?" Leliana added, and Alistair snorted.

"Right. Just what I wanted to hear," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Although…maybe I should trust her judgment. If either of them tries to hurt her, though…"

"That is why you are her partner, is it not?" Leliana asked, and Alistair's eyes widened.

"What, partner?" he repeated. "Leliana, I told you we're not…"

"You are there to protect her, and to watch her back both in battle and out of it, and she does the same. It is a bond of friendship, forged in the fires of battle – like King Calenhad and Lady Shayna," Leliana replied.

"I…don't really like that comparison. You know how the story ends, yes?" Alistair muttered, and Leliana had to think for a moment – it had been years since she had heard the legend of King Calenhad, and she admitted that her memory focused more on the romance and intrigue. As she recalled the tale, she made a face.

"Ah, right. Perhaps that isn't something to hope for. Perhaps instead, we shall make a new story, yes?" Leliana suggested, and Alistair snorted.

"Well, we _do_ have a perfectly good storyteller lying about. Just…please don't make it a tragedy," Alistair asked, and Leliana winked.

"I promise nothing…but I will try my best."

oOo

That evening, as I kept watch, Sten came over, sitting nearby. I glanced at him oddly, wondering if something was wrong; the Qunari rarely initiated conversations. We were silent, though, and I watched the trees carefully, keeping an eye out for any hint of danger. I looked at Sten occasionally, observing him, and noticing the smallest hint of tension in his eyes as he watched the trees as well. I shifted slightly on the large stone where we sat, nodding towards him.

"So will you tell me now why you were caged?" I asked quietly, and the Qunari looked back at me. We were silent for a long time, looking into the other's eyes, and he nodded slightly, letting out a long, quiet breath.

"I caged myself. A weak mind is a deadly foe, as you are no doubt aware," he answered, his voice soft, with a hint of pain hidden in the low tones.

"What do you mean by 'a weak mind'?" I prodded gently.

"That is…complicated," Sten replied, looking out towards the trees once more. "I told you before that I was sent here," he began, looking at me with steady, violet eyes. "I was not sent alone; I came to your lands with seven of the Beresaad – my brothers – to seek answers about the Blight. We made our way across the Fereldan countryside without incident, seeing nothing of the threat we were sent to observe…until the night we camped by Lake Calenhad," he said, his voice a low rumble as his eyes hardened at the memory. "They came from everywhere; the earth beneath our feet, the air above us – our own shadows harbored the darkspawn. I saw the last of the creatures cut down, too late. I fell," Sten trailed off, and I stared at him, my shoulders tensing.

"That…sounds like what happened to us at Ostagar," I breathed, and he nodded slightly, seeing the look of understanding in my eyes.

"I heard the stories of Ostagar. Your kith stood their ground when others fled; no one can do more than that," Sten replied. "I don't know how long I lay on the battlefield among the dead, nor do I know how the farmers found me. I only know that when I woke, I was no longer among my brothers…and my sword was gone from my hand," he continued, and I knitted my fingers together, shrugging slightly.

"You probably dropped it on the battlefield when you were wounded," I reasoned.

"Perhaps. I searched for it. And when that failed, I asked my rescuers what had become of it," Sten murmured, his eyes troubled.

"Did the farmers know where it was?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"They said they found me with nothing," he replied.

"And then?"

"I killed them. With my bare hands. I knew they didn't have the blade. They had no reason to lie to me. I panicked. Unthinking, I struck them down," Sten said quietly, and I looked at him, slightly troubled by this.

"You panicked over a lost blade?" I asked; I could tell, though, by the look in his eyes, that this was no mere blade.

"That sword was made for my hand alone; I have carried it from the day I was set into the Beresaad," Sten replied. "I was to die wielding it for my people. Even if I could cross Ferelden and Tevinter unarmed and alone to bring my report to the arishok, I would be slain on sight by the antaam. They would know me as soulless, a deserter; no soldier would cast aside his blade while he drew breath," the Qunari explained, and I bit my lip.

"Couldn't you search for it?" I suggested, and he shrugged weakly.

"If I knew where to look, it would be in my hand now," he said.

"So that's it? You aren't going to do anything about it?" I asked, and he looked back at me.

"What would you have me do? It could be anywhere by now," he replied, and I crossed my arms at the man, shaking my head.

"Oh don't be such a defeatist; I'll find it for you," I said, determination in my tone, and Sten looked back at me in silence for a long time, nodding slightly as he saw the look in my eye.

"Perhaps those words are empty, but…thank you all the same," he said softly.

oooo

Leliana was up front, sitting next to me in the driver's seat, and Zevran and Jowan walked to my left, glancing up towards the tower a ways in the distance; it was still a day or two away. Sten and Olan were to my right, walking along the side of the cart, and Morrigan sat in the back, watching Alistair as he kept rear-guard. Leliana was chattering absently to Olan, who would bark conversationally every once in a while, and I glanced at Zevran, who was watching me in silence.

"Care to answer a question?" I asked, and the assassin smiled faintly.

"Oh? This should be good. Go ahead," he prompted.

"Why did you want to leave the Crows, exactly?" I posed, and he crossed his arms, scratching his chin lightly as he looked toward the path ahead.

"Well, now, I imagine that's a very fair question. Being an assassin, after all, is a living…at least as far as such things go," Zevran replied. "I was simply never given the opportunity to choose another way. So if that choice presents itself, why should I not seize upon it?" he added.

"But what would you rather do?" I wondered, curious; I didn't know anything about him, really, except that he was an assassin from Antiva.

"Now that you mention it…I am not entirely certain," Zevran remarked, seeming a bit at a loss. "I was but a boy of seven when I was purchased – for three sovereigns, I'm told; which is a good price, considering I was all ribs and bone and didn't know the pommel of a dagger from the pointy end," he recalled. "The Crows buy all their assassins that way. Buy them young, raise them to know nothing else but murder. And if you do poorly in your training, you die," the Elf explained, and I bit my lip, glancing back at him.

"That sounds awful," I murmured, and he shrugged, not seeming unduly bothered by it.

"Oh, I don't know about that. The Crows who are actually good enough to survive come to enjoy some of the benefits," he replied. "In Antiva, being a Crow gets you respect. It gets you wealth. It gets you women…and men, or whatever it is you might fancy. But that does mean doing what is expected of you, always. And it means being expendable. It's a cage, if a gilded cage; pretty, but confining," Zevran explained.

"And you couldn't escape from them?" I asked, and he snorted.

"And become the next mark for some up-and-coming Crow? Not likely," he replied. "The only way to leave is for them to think you're dead…and even then you'd best be scarce. As for what I'll do in the future – presuming that there _is_ one – I truly can't imagine. It might be interesting to go into business for myself, for a change; far away from Antiva, of course. For now, naturally, I go where you go," he finished, and I smiled slightly at the assassin.

"Well, I'm happy to have you along," I said, and he smiled back at me.

"And here I am, happy to be had. Isn't it wonderful how things work out that way? Come, now, enough chit-chat; talking about the Crows summons them, you know – any Antivan fishwife could tell you so," he teased, and I rolled my eyes at him. I uncorked my water-skin, taking a drink as I listened to Alistair and Morrigan talking behind us.

"I do wonder. Is it permissible for two Grey Wardens to…oh, what is the word I search for?" Morrigan mused, and I wondered what they were talking about.

" _Caboodle?_ " Alistair suggested in a sultry tone as I took a drink, and I choked, coughing and sputtering as my mind flashed back to that dream from the other day. Zevran and Leliana looked at me with large eyes, seeing my flustered expression and bursting out laughing.

"Oh shut up," I muttered sourly, corking the water-skin before I made a bigger fool of myself.

" _Fraternize,_ " Morrigan corrected, apparently not having heard me choking on my drink.

"What's wrong with fraternizing?" Alistair asked innocently.

"It seems most… _undisciplined_ , for an organization that claims it will do 'whatever is necessary' to end the darkspawn threat," Morrigan argued.

"One thing has nothing to do with the other," Alistair remarked, sounding slightly guarded.

"Oh no? And what if a Grey Warden was forced to choose between the Warden he loved, and ending the Blight? What should his choice be?" Morrigan urged, and Alistair glared at her.

"That is a…a ridiculous question," he stammered out, and Morrigan shifted, propping her elbows up on the back of the wagon and looking at Alistair smugly.

"And I have my answer. Most kind of you," she smirked, and Alistair muttered something that sounded like 'evil woman' under his breath.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	18. Chapter 18: Kinloch Hold

Chapter 18: Kinloch Hold

Author's note:

Yaaaay…the Circle…I'm so happy…

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[mid-Justinian – summer]

We reached a small clump of houses by some docks the next day around sunset; this was the only place where one could take a boat to the tower. "What is that smell?" Sten muttered as we headed down a steep slope, glancing around.

"Easy Dancia," I murmured as her ears twitched, and the mare looked about nervously. I could smell something faintly as well; something all too familiar from years of living in the Alienage – the smell of rotting flesh. "Here, take the wagon down by that inn over there," I said to Leliana, handing her the reigns and sliding off the seat, clucking my tongue at Olan. The mabari trotted over, and I motioned for Sten to join us. "This is the place?" I asked, and he nodded, understanding what I meant.

Olan sniffed around, looking for the source of the smell, and Sten and I walked back up the slope, finding a small area off the side of the path near some pine trees, a ragged, rat-like man kneeling among a pile of bones and scraps of torn cloth and bent metal. I cleared my throat as we approached, and the man whirled around, staring at us with big eyes.

"Back off! I was here first!" he barked, grabbing a small knife and threatening me with it.

"What are you doing?" I asked, watching him carefully as he menaced me with the blade.

"None of your business, knife-ears!" the man retorted, and I narrowed my eyes at him slightly, trying to keep my temper in check. "I wasn't bothering nobody. And I was here first," he added, his tone almost whining.

"You're surrounded by corpses," I remarked, indicating the bodies of the Qunari.

"They're mine!" he hissed, taking a step back. "…not literally, you understand. They're not _my_ bodies. I mean, I only got one, and I'm not dead or nothing. But I was here _first!_ " he prattled, and I shook my head.

"There's something very wrong with you," I snorted, crossing my arms.

"I get that a lot," he replied with a shrug.

"Just…answer some questions," I sighed, and he watched me nervously, keeping an eye on Sten as the Qunari stared down at the bones of his fallen comrades.

"All right, if it'll make you leave my spot quicker," the man muttered.

"Have you found any swords?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"…no. The place was mostly picked clean when I got here," he replied with a sigh.

"So someone else was here before you?" I prodded, and the man crossed his arms, looking me up and down with a critical eye, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Now, how much would that bit of information be worth to you?" he mused, and I glowered at him, flicking my saber part-way out of the sheath with my thumb, the tip of a blue rune glowing in the light of sunset.

"Well, I might not _kill_ you if you tell me," I threatened, my eyes hard, and the man balked, nodding quickly and seeing that I was completely serious.

"Good enough!" he replied hurriedly. "I knew the guy who was here before me. He sold me this spot. Said he'd found giants and all kinds of crazy valuables. He didn't mention that he'd taken everything but the bones and the dirt already," the man muttered, glowering at the ground.

"Name and location," I said simply. I wasn't in the mood for this man's prattling; not with the bones of Sten's comrades being desecrated right in front of us.

"His name's Faryn. Squirrelly little bastard, if you ask me. Which you didn't. But I said it anyway. He was going to Orzammar, he said. I imagine he's gotten there by now," the man answered as he looked at Olan, who was sniffing at the ground nearby, and I nodded.

"Now _get_ ," I ordered, lightly tapping my blade, and he went pale, running off. I looked sadly at the remains of Sten's comrades, turning to glance up at him. "See, Sten? We'll find your blade," I assured him quietly, and the Qunari nodded, his eyes softening a fraction as he looked at me. "Would you…like me to help you? I don't know how the Qunari honor their fallen brothers, but–" Sten shook his head gently.

"Return to the others. I will do this alone," he said softly, and I nodded, understanding that he wanted to be on his own for this. I tentatively reached out, placing my hand lightly on his arm, looking up at him reassuringly for a few moments before heading back down the hill.

Morrigan was leaning against the wagon, talking to Zevran as Leliana stroked Dancia's neck, the red-haired girl glancing up as Olan trotted over to her. I glanced about, but Jowan and Alistair were nowhere to be seen. "So what is going to keep you from poisoning your target now that you have been allowed to accompany us, I wonder?" Morrigan asked, and Zevran grinned, making eyes at her.

"You are. You will be watching me _ever_ so closely to make sure I attempt no such thing," the Elf replied smoothly, and Morrigan raised an eyebrow.

"And why would I do such a thing? Sneaking into our good graces in order to make another attempt is what _I_ would do, were I you," she remarked.

"And here I was becoming rather fond of the idea of you watching me closely," the assassin teased, and Morrigan rolled her eyes.

"It would be a simple enough matter to poison the food in camp. Or cut our throats while we sleep," she said.

"You seem rather charmed by the idea," Zevran observed.

"It would seem an appropriate result of sparing your life," Morrigan countered, crossing her arms, still a bit suspicious of him.

"Ah. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you then. The next time I am spared I will be sure to immediately turn upon my benefactors. Will that do?" Zevran asked, glancing back at my approach.

"Aw, and I thought we were past the whole 'assassin after my life' thing," I teased, joining the two. "Say, where's Alistair? And Jowan? You didn't throw them in the lake, did you?" I asked, glancing at Morrigan, who rolled her eyes.

"If only 'twere so," she replied. "Alistair is renting rooms for the eve," she added, nodding towards the inn.

"Ah, good; I was about to go do that myself," I said, walking to the back of the cart and rummaging through my things. "And Jowan?" I asked her, but she didn't seem to hear. I glanced up as I heard a meow, and I spotted a large black cat sitting on top of the box of Dwarven armor. "Oh. Hello there," I said to the cat, and it meowed again. I grinned, realizing what was happening, and I propped my elbows up on the cart. "You know, being half-starved gave you away. I've seen ragged strays in better shape than you," I teased, and Jowan grinned, balancing lightly on the edge of the cart as he walked over to me.

"May I?" he asked, nodding towards my shoulder, and I held out my arm, letting the cat climb up.

"Morrigan taught you?" I asked, and he nodded. "Not for free, I presume," I added, and he shrugged. Well, as much as a cat can shrug anyway.

"She just wanted information about the tower. Well, about something _in_ the tower," he replied.

"Oh?" I wondered. As the others headed towards the inn, Morrigan joined Jowan and me, leaning lightly against the cart and looking up at Kinloch Hold.

"I have a thought," she said, and I glanced at her.

"What's on your mind?" I asked, and she walked with me as I went to the front of the cart, unhitching Dancia and leading her to a quiet, grassy spot, letting the big mare graze. Jowan climbed onto the mare's back, looking towards the tower with big, grey eyes, the tip of his tail flicking nervously.

"We have an opportunity that I believe we should take advantage of," Morrigan began, and I listened, leaning lightly against an old wooden fence-post. "To the point; my mother was once divested of a particular grimoire by a most annoying Templar hunter. It occurred long before I was born, but even today Flemeth speaks of the loss with great rage," Morrigan explained, and I knitted my fingers together, nodding for her to continue, and assuming this was what Jowan had just mentioned. "Now that we are at the Circle tower, it occurs to me that this might be the perfect time to recover the tome from the mages' possession, for surely it eventually ended up in their hands," she reasoned.

"What makes you think the mages still have this book?" I asked, looking up towards the great, stone tower that rose high into the sky.

"Flemeth is a sorceress of legend, is she not? And her grimoire would be more than a mere curiosity to mages that daren't even _glance_ towards the places my mother has walked for eons," Morrigan replied. "No doubt 'tis considered something dangerous, perhaps best locked away somewhere dark, yes? And if not? Then at least I know it does not exist. But there is no harm in looking, surely," she added, and I nodded vaguely.

"So what do you want with this grimoire, exactly?"

"'Tis a book of spells, of the sort that Flemeth has dabbled with throughout her long life. 'Tis not the sort of thing that would benefit a mage of the standard variety; they were taught a different path," Morrigan continued, glancing towards Jowan, who looked slightly put out, but was concentrating on cleaning a forepaw, running it over his whiskers. "I, however, was taught by my mother. I know a way around the wards my mother would have placed on such a tome, and I know the language that she would have written it in. I would find such a tome…most useful," she explained.

"Very well. I'll keep an eye out for it," I agreed, and she smiled.

"Good. I am most interested to see its contents, should it be located. The grimoire is leather-bound and adorned with the symbol of a leafless tree, should you come across it; it should not be difficult for one of your skill to acquire," Morrigan described, and I raised an eyebrow.

"I'll…take that as a compliment, and not a comment on my kleptomania," I replied, and she chuckled.

"'Twas intended as such," she confirmed. "But if you do not find the book…I shall simply put it from my mind," she added.

"And…speaking of the tower…" I began, bringing Dancia to a small enclosed area, patting the horse's flank. Jowan climbed back onto my shoulder as I offered, and we began walking back towards the inn.

"Yes, I believe we shall be better off if I remain here," Morrigan said, surprising me with her quick acquiescence. "I am not so bold as to walk into a nest of Templars," she added as she saw my look, and I nodded quickly.

"Uh, yes, I know. I just thought maybe you'd want to see that place. Out of curiosity," I replied, and she rolled her eyes.

"'Tis a tower in the middle of a lake. Shaped like a giant phallus. I think I have seen enough," she remarked, and I nodded.

"Okay, I see your point. I'll get your mother's grimoire, if I can find it," I promised as we walked back to the inn, and she nodded.

"Thank you."

oooo

"Alistair, I will never complain about your cooking again," I promised the man, once we had forced down dinner. The bread had been burnt to a crisp, and the soup tasted like the cook had gone out into the back garden and dropped a bucket of dirt into the broth.

"Good to hear," he cringed, clutching his stomach. Everyone looked ill, but Alistair, Jowan and I were the worst, having each eaten two helpings, despite the taste.

"You know, in all those weeks of running and hiding, I thought I would have to resort to eating dirt. This…might actually be worse," Jowan admitted, suppressing a belch as his face turned green.

"Perhaps if the three of you did not _gorge_ yourselves like starved jackals…" Morrigan began, and we threw her withering glares, silencing her. Once we had recovered enough to stand, our group dispersed, heading towards our rooms. Olan hopped onto the small bed, taking it up entirely, and I put my hands on my hips, glowering at my companion with a helpless smile.

" _Really?_ I haven't seen a real bed in _months_ , and you steal it from me?" I grinned, shaking my head at the dog as he barked happily. I changed into my nightgown, the cotton garment falling down to my knees. I brushed out my hair until it shone in the dim candlelight, burning a deep copper. Leaning against the wall by the door, I let out a soft sigh, pausing as I heard a pair of footsteps down the hall. By the sounds of their voices, it was Leliana and Alistair, speaking softly. I closed my eyes, pricking my ears to listen; I knew I shouldn't pry…but curiosity got the better of me.

"So…you're female, Leliana, right?" Alistair asked, and I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. _Smooth_.

"I am? That's news. When did _that_ happen?" Leliana teased, and I could almost see the withering look Alistair was giving her.

"I…just wanted some advice. What should I do if…if I think a woman is special and…" Leliana giggled at him as he trailed off.

"You want to woo her? Here's a good tip; you shouldn't question her about her female-ness," she replied, and I heard the smile in her voice.

"Alright, yes. Good point," Alistair grumbled.

"Why do you ask? Are you afraid things will not proceed naturally?" Leliana asked gently.

"Why _would_ they? Especially when I do things like ask women if they're female," Alistair replied, his voice glum.

"It adds to your charm, Alistair. You are a little awkward. It is endearing," she reassured him, and I heard him let out a small snort.

"So I _should_ be awkward? Didn't you just say _not_ to do things like that?" he asked, and Leliana giggled at his confusion.

"Just be yourself. You _do_ know how to do that, don't you?" she teased.

"Alright, forget I asked," Alistair sighed, and I heard him return to his room.

Olan was adamant about stealing my bed, and I threw my hands in the air, giving up. I opened the window to my room, looking out over the scenery as the moon rose high in the sky, dull red against the deep blue-black, speckled with stars. I clambered out the window and onto the shingled rooftop, standing and looking out across the lake, back towards Redcliffe. _Just hold on for a bit longer, Connor,_ I thought, staring up at the high tower where the Circle was housed.

I closed my eyes, sitting down and letting my other senses take over as I wrapped my bed sheet around my shoulders like a shawl. I could smell the smoky heat of a fire coming from a house's fireplace nearby, and hear an owl hooting in the distance. I let out a long, slow breath, shivering as a wind picked up, tossing my hair about my face and making the sheet cling to me.

I opened my eyes as I heard a soft sound nearby, watching as a pair of hands came over the edge of the rooftop. Zevran climbed easily up to the roof, nodding in greeting as he walked over, sitting down next to me. "Hello Zevran," I greeted quietly, tucking the blanket around my legs so it wouldn't flap in the wind.

"Hello Warden," he replied, a hint of amusement in his eyes as I fidgeted slightly, embarrassed that he had caught me in my nightgown. We watched the dark lake in silence, the moon like a red disk reflected on the water's surface.

"Could you tell me a little about Antiva? I'm curious," I asked him after a while, and Zevran glanced back at me, smiling faintly at my inquisitiveness.

"Oh? You wish to know about Antiva, do you? The only way to truly appreciate it would be to go there," he replied. "It is a warm place, not cold and harsh like this Ferelden. In Antiva it rains often, but the flowers are always in bloom…or so the saying goes."

"You don't like Ferelden much, I take it?" I grinned, and the Elf shrugged.

"It is fine enough with its dogs and its mud. The people are spirited even if they can't tell the difference between an assassin and a mere killer," he said. "I hail from the glorious Antiva City, home to the royal palace. It is a glittering gem amidst the sand, my Antiva City. Do you come from someplace comparable?" Zevran asked, and I smirked.

"Of course. My mother was better than any gem," I boasted, and he laughed.

"You have me there, indeed! I, for one, can make no such claim, as I never laid eyes on the woman!" he said, leaning back against the slanted roof and propping himself up on his elbows. "Hmm. You know what is most odd? We speak of my homeland, and for all its wine and its dark-haired beauties and the lillo flutes of the minstrels…I miss the _leather_ the most," he remarked, and I raised an eyebrow, surprised, and a bit confused.

"Is that…some kind of euphemism?" I asked, almost afraid of the answer. The Elf burst out laughing at my look of dread, shaking his head.

"It may as well be!" Zevran grinned. "But not this once, no; I mean the _smell_ ," he explained. "For years I lived in a tiny apartment near Antiva City's leather-making district, in a building where the Crows stored their youngest recruits – packed in like crates," he recalled with distaste. "I grew accustomed to the stench, even though the humans complained of it constantly. To this day the smell of fresh leather is what reminds me most of home more than anything else," he sighed, and I cocked my head, hearing the hint of homesickness in his tone.

"You sound like you've been away from home forever," I observed, and the assassin shrugged, glancing back at me.

"Oh, not so long, I know. It is my first time away from Antiva, however, and the thought of never returning makes me think of it constantly," he replied quietly. "Before I left, I was tempted to spend what little coin I possessed on leather boots I spotted in a store window; finest Antivan leather, perfect craftsmanship… Ah, but I was a fool to leave them," he sighed wistfully. "I thought, 'Ah, Zevran, you can buy them when you return as a reward for a job well done!' More the fool I, no?" Zevran recalled.

"Your home is still there, Zevran," I assured him, and he seemed caught off guard by the gentleness in my tone. I knew the feeling; I never liked Denerim much, but it was still my home. And I _did_ miss my family, besides. I wondered how Shianni, Soris and Dad were doing – I hadn't been sending letters, in case Loghain's agents intercepted them; they would either come after me directly, or go after my family to get to me.

"True, and it's a comforting thought. One simply never knows what is to come next," Zevran replied, seeming to notice the distant look in my eyes as well. "How could I have suspected I would end up defeated by a beautiful Grey Warden, a woman who then spares my life? I could not," he added, and I rolled my eyes at his flirting.

"You need to make the most of where you are," I remarked, and he nodded.

"Quite right you are. I see the Grey Wardens do not recruit fools," he smiled. "Now, if it is all the same to you, I would prefer not to speak more of Antiva. It makes me wistful and hungry for a proper meal," he added.

"Hm, fair enough," I replied, closing my eyes and letting out a soft sigh as the wind picked up my hair, throwing it about my face. I smiled slightly as I thought of something. "I'll be right back," I said, holding my nightgown tightly about my legs as I walked down the roof, slipping back into my room before climbing out the window once more, carrying a bottle of Antivan brandy. "Mmph," I grunted, clambering onto the rooftop and walking over, sitting down next to Zevran and handing him the bottle before wrapping myself in the blanket again. "Here. I bribed the barkeep for this – the stuff he's serving is terrible, but this should be good," I said, and Zevran raised an eyebrow.

"Are you…giving this to me?" he asked oddly, his tone surprised, and I smiled.

"Well it's not Antivan _leather…_ " I said with a crooked grin. "Try some! I don't want to give you something that tastes like embalming fluid," I joked, and Zevran nodded, uncorking the bottle and taking a sip. He made a face, shutting his eyes tightly, and I stared at him. "Don't tell me…" I groaned, and Zevran opened one eye, grinning at me.

"I'm joking," he smirked, and I snorted.

"You _scared_ me for a second there!" I laughed, shaking my head. "So is it any good?" I added, and he passed me the bottle.

"Ah, you've never had? The worst Antivan brandy is still better than the best Ferelden brew, they say. Of course, this isn't the cheap stuff by any means," he replied, and I took a sip, smiling.

"Hm, you're right about _that_. Better than the watered down swill at the bar, that's for sure," I remarked, handing him back the bottle after taking a sip.

"Thank you. For the gift, I mean," Zevran said, nodding slightly, and I smiled.

"Don't mention it," I replied.

"So what of you, my dear?" Zevran asked after a while, and I glanced over.

"Hmm?"

"Have you been away from home for very long?" he clarified, and I shrugged.

"It's been a few months, yes," I replied, looking out towards the lake. The wind picked up, and I shivered, pulling the blanket tighter around me. "Hm, it's a little silly, really – I always hated Denerim – but now that I've been away from it, I sort of miss the place," I admitted, knitting my fingers together. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I guess."

"You lived in the Alienage?" Zevran asked, and I grinned.

"Where else would I live?" I chuckled slightly. "Even the Elves who managed to get jobs as house servants still lived in the Alienage, if their master's house wasn't large enough to accommodate them," I said. "It was fairly close to the docks, so the place smelled like fish and low-tide on its best days," I described, pulling my knees up to my chin. "On particularly hot days in the summer, we had to wear scarves over our noses so we didn't faint from the stench."

I smiled sadly, remembering when Shianni and I would complain on the way to the market, and the first time Neria had come into the Alienage. "I suppose we should get some sleep," I sighed. "I'm…getting a strange feeling from the tower – I hope it's nothing…but I'd rather be prepared for the worst," I added, and he raised an eyebrow.

"A strange feeling? Is it not the Grey Warden's ability to sense darkspawn?" he asked, and I shook my head.

"No, that's different – that's a sort of…tingly feeling at the back of my skull. This is more of a skin-crawling, tight-knot-in-your-stomach feeling," I explained. "And no, it's not nerves, before you ask," I added, and he shrugged.

"Perhaps it was something you ate?" he suggested teasingly, and I snorted.

"Maybe. Though I have a sneaking suspicion that indigestion is the _least_ of my problems," I shrugged. I bade him goodnight and clambered down into my room, gently nudging Olan until there was room enough for me to squeeze into bed next to the mabari.

oooo

 _I walked the Fade, becoming aware in my dreaming state. The twisted, spiraling structures rose above my head, and the alien sky shimmered green, dotted with floating islands. As I followed a long, coiling path, I felt a shiver up my spine and turned, my heart seizing up; someone was there, watching me. They were cloaked and hooded, with a white mask that looked like bleached bone, shaped like the head of a dragon. A quiet, sibilant echo flowed towards me, and I shuddered, recognizing the distinct, hypnotic voice of the archdemon. I looked around, but the creature was nowhere to be found._

 _"Kill…me…" a soft, beautiful voice breathed, and I stared at the cloaked figure. The chattering, hissing song was coming from beneath the cloak, but as I took a step forward, they vanished, blinking out of existence. A moment later, the hissing stopped, and I stared around, puzzled._

 _I continued to walk, following the path and pausing as I reached a clearing; Morrigan was there, standing in the center and looking around. She glanced up at my approach, seeming surprised. "You are…aware of yourself here?" she asked, and I nodded._

 _"Yes. It happens sometimes," I replied vaguely, not entirely sure how I did it, honestly. "Do you feel that?" I added, and she nodded; there was a strange pressure building around us, and the air almost hummed with raw Fade energy._

 _"Something is amiss. Perhaps a demon has taken over one of the mages in their tower?" Morrigan suggested, and I groaned._

 _"Ugh, that's the_ _ **last**_ _thing we need right now – more demons," I muttered, my shoulders slumping at the thought. I bade her farewell as I continued on down another path, wondering if I could find the source of the strange energy. I ran into Jowan a short while later – he was surprised that I was aware that I was in the Fade, and seemed very curious. He left me to my own devices, however, saying that he wanted to investigate the strange energy as well, but wasn't eager to run into a demon, should it be at the source of the power._

 _I came to an odd, purple-ish portal, so of course the first thing I did was walk into it,_ _shifting to another part of the Fade. "Huh. That's weird," I said, looking about. The soaring structures rose above me in tall spirals, and then slowly began to organize themselves into columns as I walked further down a path. "Ah," I murmured, looking about, "I must be in someone's dream."_

 _It was, in fact, Alistair's dream; I saw him sitting at a table, laughing and joking, surrounded by other men in what looked like a large dining hall – I recognized a few of them as Grey Wardens from Ostagar, and Duncan sat nearby as well, smiling; I was surprised – I had never seen Duncan laugh or smile like that before. Alistair was the happiest that I had ever seen him, and I felt my heart tighten, smiling sadly._ Loghain needs to pay for what he's done, _I thought, leaning against one of the pillars and watching Alistair as some of the older men teased him about something, and his face went red._

 _A sudden bolt of jealousy went through me, and I turned away, not wanting to spoil his dream._ I wish I knew how to make him happy like that. Everything's been pain and misery since we've met… _I thought with a small sigh, heading off as I listened to the echoing laugher._

 _"Hey! Where are you going?" I heard someone call, and I glanced back, my eyes wide; someone had…noticed me? In the dream? I watched as Alistair trotted over, grinning at me and taking my hands. "Why the sad face?" he asked gently, and I shook my head quickly, careful with my words so that he wouldn't realize he was dreaming._

 _"Oh, nothing, just…lost in thought," I replied, and Alistair smiled._

 _"Come on – I was just telling some of the others about you. They missed you," he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leading me out to the main hall before I could protest. "Oh, don't be so shy. I know you haven't met some of them, but they're all really friendly," he assured me, sensing my reluctance. He introduced me to the Grey Wardens I hadn't yet met, who greeted me warmly. It was…as if they thought of me as family. I had the sudden sense of…coming home after being away for very long, and I sniffed quietly, feeling my eyes misting over. "Oh? Never thought you were the sentimental type," Alistair teased, and I glowered up at him._

 _"Quiet," I muttered, feigning anger. "I'm just…not used to such a warm welcome," I admitted, and his eyes softened. He placed a hand on my cheek, and I looked at him, eyes wide as saucers as he leaned over, kissing me gently._ This **is** Alistair's dream…right? _I thought with astonishment, and Alistair grinned as he saw my bewildered look._

 _"Sorry if that was sudden," he apologized, not sounding sorry at all. "But I've wanted to do that again since Redcliffe. I want you to know how…how special you are to me," he murmured, pressing his forehead against mine, and I smiled, trying to recover as I felt my heart pounding in my chest._ We…were flirting before, but I didn't know he felt this way… _I thought, closing my eyes as his arms wrapped around me._ Wait…since **Redcliffe**? _I thought, my eyes shooting open._ So…so when I was drunk I…kissed him? I thought I had just… _Everything began melting away, and I sighed._ Ugh. Shame it's just a dream… _I thought with chagrin. I looked up at Alistair, and before the dream faded completely, I stood on my toes and kissed him again, wrapping my arms around his neck and smiling as he pulled me tightly to him_.

oooo

The next morning, I thought about the dream, trying not to smile as I met Alistair downstairs for breakfast. He looked happier than usual, and I bit my lip, concentrating on eating. I couldn't help but ask, though, as we got ready to go to the tower. "You seem more upbeat today," I observed as we headed outside, and Alistair glanced at me. "Have a nice dream?" I continued, and he smiled slightly, his eyes distant as he remembered it.

"…yes," he sighed, and I barely managed to hold back a smirk.

"Oh? What about?" I asked innocently, and Alistair cleared his throat awkwardly, his ears reddening slightly with nervousness.

"Um…the other Grey Wardens," he replied vaguely. "Uh…and…you were there too. I introduced you to them," he added, and I noticed that he was picking his words carefully.

"That sounds nice. I wish I could have met them all," I sighed, smiling up at him.

"You would have liked them. We were like a family," Alistair replied warmly, and I nodded. _I did get that feeling,_ I thought, nodding towards a rowboat that was tied to the dock.

"I guess that's the way across. I wonder where the ferryman is?" I mused, seeing only a Templar standing nearby, for some reason.

The young, tow-headed Templar stood by the docks, watching our group suspiciously as we approached. True to her word, Morrigan had chosen to stay at the inn, sitting out on a fence near Dancia and Olan and writing something in the small black tome that she kept with her, nodding absently to us as we passed by. Jowan sat next to her in the form of a cat, reading over her shoulder.

"You! You're not looking to get across to the tower, are you? Because I have strict orders not to let _anyone_ pass!" the Templar said, his voice high and whiny. I raised an eyebrow at his tone, wondering why a Templar was put in charge of the ferry.

"Who are you?" I asked, and the Templar glared at me, as if the question was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard.

" _I_ am the person appointed to stop all unauthorized access to the Circle Tower. Meaning you. Because you're _unauthorized_ ," he replied, pointing at my present company. I tried not to roll my eyes, crossing my arms and nodding towards the tower.

"Uh…right. We've got business in the tower. Let us across and we won't bother you anymore," I tried, and he shook his head.

"No! I've one job, and one job only, and by the Maker's shiny gold cutlery, I will do it!" he was adamant, and I bit back a smirk at this over-the-top display.

"The Maker probably doesn't have cutlery," I replied, and he narrowed his eyes at me.

"Oh, and He's told you that, has He? Well, you're _still_ not getting in this tower," the young man persisted, and I let out a small breath, my patience fraying a bit. _Okay, we really don't have time for this,_ I thought, beginning to tap my foot as I tried to remain civil.

"I have some documents that compel the Circle to help me," I explained, handing him the treaties. The Templar looked over the treaties carefully, returning them with a hint of disdain.

"Yes? Oh, a Grey Warden seal. A-ha. So you're claiming to be one of _those_ ," he said, thoroughly unimpressed as he looked me over. "You know, _I_ have some documents, too. They say I'm the queen of Antiva. What do you think of that?" he added, and I snorted.

"You are the manliest looking queen _I_ have ever seen," Zevran piped up, and I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh at the irritated glare the Templar was giving him.

"Don't question royalty," he retorted with an absent wave of his hand. "Anyway, it was nice chatting with you. Now on your way. Right now. _Go_ ," he said, trying to shoo us.

"Ugh, can't we work something out?" I groaned, trying to be reasonable. I was a few seconds away from just kicking him into the lake, but I managed to stay relatively calm as I tried to be diplomatic. The Templar crossed his arms, stroking his chin lightly, as if in thought.

"Hmm…I don't know…" he mused, and my jaw tightened as I gritted my teeth. _I_ _ **hate**_ _dealing with shems!_ I thought angrily, my eyes hardening as I glared. "Y'know, I _am_ feeling a little peckish, though," he said, and my shoulders tensed.

"Are you _joking?_ You want me to _feed_ you?" I asked incredulously, pissed now.

"Parshaara! Here! Munch on these if you like," Sten said suddenly, stepping forward and handing the Templar a small parcel of wax paper. I raised an eyebrow as the young man unwrapped it, revealing a bundle of honey biscuits.

"Ooh, cookies!" the Templar grinned, and I glanced up at Sten questioningly.

"I am content to part with them if it saves us from this fool," the Qunari rumbled; apparently his patience had been stretched thin as well.

"Where'd you even _get_ those?" I wondered, dumbfounded.

"There was a child – a fat, slovenly thing – in the last village we passed. I relieved him of these confections. He didn't need more," Sten explained, and I stared up at him.

"You _stole_ cookies from a _child?_ " I asked incredulously, almost laughing, and Sten shrugged.

"For his own good," the warrior replied, and I shrugged, relenting.

"As long as it gets us across," I said, looking back at the Templar as he munched on the thin wafers.

"Mmm, yummy. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours, yes? We can go across now, if you really want," he said, and I nodded.

"Yes, let's go," I said, quickly hopping into the boat before he could change his mind, planting myself at the bow and waiting for the others to come along as well.

"Come along, I suppose," the Templar said, and we all piled into the small rowboat. Zevran, Alistair and I had to sit towards the front, and Leliana and Sten sat in the back, trying to balance out the weight of the vessel so it wouldn't tip over as the Templar rowed us across.

"I understand that there are Elves in the Qunari lands, Sten," Zevran said suddenly, and I glanced at him, leaning my shoulder lightly against Alistair's as we sat near the front of the boat.

"There are Elves everywhere," Sten replied, and I bit back a laugh. _Well, he's right,_ I thought, seeing Zevran's look of chagrin at the short answer.

"Hm. Yes. Well, I've heard that the Qunari actually put the Elves in charge? Over the humans? Is that true?" Zevran pressed, and Sten shrugged.

"Some of them," he answered.

"Only some? Which ones are they?" the Elf asked.

"The ones who belong in charge. That is the way of the Qun," Sten replied. _Oh dear, the endless cycle's started up,_ I thought, trying not to smile at Zevran as his brow furrowed slightly. I covered my mouth and glanced away, pretending to be preoccupied by watching the water.

"How does this Qun determine who belongs in charge?" Zevran continued to question Sten, and I glanced up at Alistair who shrugged slightly. I looped my arm in his, leaning my head against his shoulder, and he smiled faintly at me, resting his cheek on the top of my head.

"The tamassrans evaluate everyone and place them where their talents merit," the Qunari explained.

"But Elves, in general, merit higher places than humans in Qunari society?" Zevran prodded.

"Some of them," Sten replied, and Zevran rolled his eyes, defeated.

"Back where we began. It's like talking to a water wheel," the Elf sighed, returning his attention back to the lake, watching the calm water as the Templar rowed in silence. For a long time, the only sound was the splash of the oars hitting the lake, and I closed my eyes, tensing slightly as we neared the tower; I was getting that same, strange feeling from it that I had back in Redcliffe, and it made me feel immensely uncomfortable. It felt like a tight knot was clenching and unclenching in my chest, and I tried to keep my expression level as we disembarked, walking up a small, cobblestone path from the dock and going up to the tower's main gates.

"Are you alright?" Alistair asked softly, having noticed my tension.

I glanced down at my saber; it was humming and vibrating very faintly, and I placed a hand on it, chewing my lip nervously as I looked back towards the doors. _Great, so that means there're undead or demons in there?_ I guessed, going from previous experiences of the blade's warnings. "I'm…getting a bad feeling about this," I admitted, nodding towards the tower.

"…me too," he murmured, and I glanced at him oddly. _Right, Templars sense things like this,_ I recalled. I looked back at the Templar on the dock, who seemed completely relaxed, however, and I pursed my lips. _Maybe Alistair's more sensitive to magic, then,_ I assumed, pushing open the large, reinforced doors with the others' help.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

University classes start up on Monday, so the rapid-fire updates might have to slow. I've got a fairly decent buffer built up - this story has been sitting for a long time, but I'm proofreading it again - so I'm thinking...a chapter on Tues+Thurs, and probably one on Saturday. Sound good?

Oh, and P.S. Reviews are welcome - I want to know if people like the story...and I hope my excruciatingly detailed chapters aren't boring...

Oh! P.P.S. I'm writing a little side-story about Daveth; short snippets of his life before Duncan finds him. I'll be updating that on Saturday and Sunday as well.


	19. Chapter 19: Unquiet Slumbers

Chapter 19

Unquiet Slumbers for the Sleepers…

Author's note:

Hey…so…the Fade… I'm not going to make you suffer through that. Next chapter is going to deal with the nightmares, though – I liked _that_ part, at least.

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The place was a flurry of activity as we entered, and I looked around; the main hall was a mess, scattered with broken furniture and wounded Templars, who groaned faintly as a few terrified priests and initiates treated their wounds. _I knew it. Something happened,_ I thought, a pit of dread forming in my stomach as our group walked towards an older Templar; his armor was slightly more decorative than the others, and he was giving orders to a few Templars that gathered about. My saber was continuing to hum by my side, only bolstering my anxiety as I thought of undead and demons.

"…and I want two men stationed within sight of the doors at all times. Do not open the doors without my express consent. Is that clear?" the man asked, and the Templars nodded.

"Yes, ser," they said, running off to carry out his orders.

"The doors are barred. Are they keeping people out? Or in?" Alistair murmured, looking towards the large, carved doors that stood to the right of the main hall, a pair of Templars lowering a heavy wooden bar to keep the place locked tight.

"Now we wait, and pray," the head Templar sighed, running a hand through his mid-length grey hair, his eyes weary and red with strain. He glanced over at our group's approach, looking me up and down, slightly troubled.

"You're in charge here, I assume?" I observed, and the man nodded vaguely.

"Who are you? I explicitly told Carroll not to bring anyone across the lake. We are dealing with a very delicate situation," he explained, and I crossed my arms, nodding towards the doors.

"Evidently. My name is Adeline," I introduced myself, and the man sighed.

"Greagoir, Knight-Commander of the Templars," he replied. "I must ask you to leave, however, for your own safety," he insisted.

"I seek the mages' help to defeat the darkspawn…however that doesn't seem possible at the moment," I remarked, and the Knight-Commander nodded, glancing warily back at the large, barred doors, as if he were afraid something was going to break through at any moment.

"I am weary of the Grey Wardens' ceaseless need for men to fight the darkspawn…but it is their right," he sighed, crossing his arms. "You'll find no allies here, I'm afraid. The Templars can spare no men, and the mages are…indisposed," he added, and I gave him a questioning look. "I shall speak plainly; the tower is no longer under our control. Abominations and demons stalk the tower's halls," Greagoir explained, and I felt my shoulders slump at the thought of facing more abominations and demons.

"This is why we cut the tongues from mages, in Par Vollen," Sten muttered, looking about warily, and Greagoir glanced back at him, nodding slightly.

"I will admit to agreeing with your companion. Maker knows the _Qunari_ would not have gotten themselves into this position," the Knight-Commander sighed.

"Maker's breath, how did this happen?" I asked, looking towards the doors. _Is…is this why I'm getting an uneasy feeling? Like back at Redcliffe Castle, with Connor?_ I wondered, my skin prickling at the thought. _Well, I guess I was right about the sword detecting demons, then,_ I thought grimly, _although I almost wish I_ _ **wasn't**_ _._

"We don't know. We saw only demons, hunting Templars and mages alike. I realized we could not defeat them and told my men to flee," Greagoir replied, his eyes strained, and his brow furrowed with stress as he looked about the hall at his injured men.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked; I wasn't sure _what_ I could do, but I had to ask anyway – I didn't want to just sit and wait for the abominations to break through the doors.

"I have sent word to Denerim, calling for reinforcements and the Right of Annulment," Greagoir replied, and I looked at him questioningly; I had no idea what this 'Right of Annulment' was, but I didn't like the sound of it.

"The Right of Annulment? Sounds…ominous," I remarked. I recalled what Jowan had told me about the Right of Tranquility, and my heart clenched up as I made the connection.

"The Right of Annulment gives Templars the authority to neutralize the mage Circle. Completely," Greagoir explained, and my eyes widened in surprise.

"What? Why would you do such a thing?" I asked, shocked.

"The mages are probably already dead. Any abominations remaining in there must be dealt with no matter what," Alistair reasoned, and I stared at him.

" _Alistair!_ " I gasped, surprised that he would suggest such a thing.

"This situation is dire. There is no alternative – everything in the tower must be destroyed so it can be made safe again," Greagoir argued, and I looked at him pleadingly.

"But the mages are not defenseless. Some must still live," I countered. I couldn't just let any survivors have their powers taken away, only to be killed by demons and abominations.

"If any are still alive, the Maker Himself has shielded them," Greagoir replied. "No one could have survived those monstrous creatures. It is too painful to hope for survivors and find…nothing," the man sighed, his voice pained.

" _I'll_ look for survivors," I offered, and Greagoir looked at me sternly.

"I assure you, an abomination is a force to be reckoned with, and you will face more than one," he retorted, almost incredulous, and I set my jaw, scowling at the doors.

"Abominations cannot stand against me," I said firmly. He seemed unconvinced, despite my confident tone, but he relented, his shoulders sagging a fraction as he looked back at me – he could see that I wasn't going to stand down.

"If you succeed, I would owe you much; enough that I would pledge my Templars to your cause. As a Grey Warden, you speak with the authority of our king and Chantry. Where you lead, my men and I shall follow," Greagoir sighed, and I nodded.

"We have an agreement, then?" I asked, and he said it was so, indicating the doors.

"A word of caution," he warned, "once you cross that threshold, there is no turning back. The great doors must remain barred. I will open them for no one until I have proof that it is safe; I will only believe it is over if the first enchanter stands before me and tells me it is so. If Irving has fallen…then the Circle is lost, and must be destroyed," the Knight-Commander explained, and I agreed to his terms. "May Andraste lend you her courage, whatever you decide."

I looked back at the rest of our group, crossing my arms and nodding towards the doors. "Anyone who doesn't want to come can stay here," I made the offer, despite knowing that no one was going to stay behind.

"Don't be absurd – we're not going to let you go in there and face Maker-knows- _what_ on your own," Leliana snorted, rolling her eyes at me, and I shrugged.

"Just though I'd ask," I replied, glancing at the Templars that stood on either side of the doors. They looked at the Knight-Commander, who nodded, and they raised the heavy wooden bar, opening the doors and letting us through. The huge doors boomed shut behind us once we were inside, and I glanced around with big eyes; the tower was magnificent, despite its current chaotic state. The ceiling arched high above our heads, and colored tapestries were hung between the tall, elaborately carved pillars.

"This is the prison for your mages? Ours is not so grand," I heard Sten remark as we walked quietly through the halls, keeping an eye out for abominations and demons.

"I wonder…is this where the apprentices stayed?" I murmured as we entered a large room; dozens of beds were scattered about, some of them broken, and thrown on their sides. I bit my lip as I saw the battered, torn bodies of young mages, and I knelt next to one, seeing long, horrible gashes across the Elf boy's back – he didn't look a day older than twelve. _I'm glad Jowan chose not to come. This might have been too much of a shock for him,_ I thought, looking about.

"…they were not killed quickly…" Leliana breathed, shivering as she saw the scattered corpses, and I nodded, standing. My expression hardened as we returned to the hall, seeing more bodies, mages and Templars alike, thrown near the doors and walls.

"We need to stop this. Now," I said firmly, and the others nodded, seeing my hard expression. My blade thrummed in its scabbard, and I drew it, holding it out like a dowsing rod – the others watched curiously as the blade's humming rose and fell softly, depending on the direction it was pointed. "Be careful," I warned, indicating the hall ahead, "there are demons in that direction."

We walked down the long hall, finding only more bodies of dead mages and Templars, until we started, hearing a sudden scream from up ahead. We rushed into the large chamber, spotting several mages that had survived the initial attack.

A young man and woman stood back, guarding a few children as an elderly mage raised a staff above her head, calling out an incantation as a large, red, slug-like creature dragged itself across the hall towards her, its body made up of molten flame. I shuddered as I saw it, and my saber nearly leapt from its sheath in its presence; _a demon_ , I thought, instinctively taking a step back. The elderly mage froze the creature with an ice spell, and it seemed to evaporate before our very eyes, letting out a pained roar as it disappeared.

The old woman sighed, catching her breath and lowering her staff. Her hair was tied up in a small knot, the white strands glowing faintly in the strange blue light that came from the doorway nearby. "Wynne!" The young man called, and the old woman glanced over at us, tensing and raising her staff, her eyes narrowed.

"Stop right there! Take another step, and I swear I will strike you down where you stand!" she yelled, and I held my hands up, showing her I was unarmed.

"Whoa! Calm down!" Alistair gasped, raising his hands, ready to nullify her spell should she attack.

"Wait, there are _children_ here?" I asked, staring at the terrified young mages as they cowered behind the man and woman, who stood protectively in front of them.

"I am Wynne, mage of the Circle, and these children are under my protection. Who are you, and what is your purpose here? Have the Templars opened the door? Speak quickly – I'll have no games," Wynne demanded, and I kept my hands up, trying to stay calm.

 _You know what? Sod Secrecy at this point – the Templars already know we're Wardens anyway,_ I thought, watching Wynne carefully. "I am Adeline, a Grey Warden, and I seek the help of the mages," I replied, and Wynne lowered the tip of her staff slightly, though she did not back down completely.

"And you were told that the Circle was in no shape to help you, I suppose," she remarked. "So why did the Templars let you in? Do they plan to attack the tower now?" Wynne questioned, and I glanced back in the direction we came.

"They've…sent for the Right of Annulment," I explained. My words seemed to take the fight out of her – her shoulders sagged, and she lowered her staff, looking sadly at the children.

"So Greagoir thinks the Circle is beyond hope. He probably assumes we are all dead," she sighed. "They abandoned us to our fate, but even trapped as we are, we have survived. If they invoke the Right, however, we will not be able to stand against them," she murmured, and I glanced about the large chamber, my eyes lingering on the door across from us, where a thin, blue mist floated around, sparks of blue lightning rippling across the doorway.

"What happened here?" I asked, and the old woman glanced back at the door, following my gaze. She let out a quiet sigh, walking over to our group and looking us over, her eyes lingering on Alistair and me, as if she thought she recognized us. She looked familiar as well, but I couldn't quite place where I had seen her.

"Let it suffice to say that we had something of a revolt on our hands, led by a mage named Uldred. When he returned from the battle at Ostagar, he tried to take over the Circle – as you can see, it didn't work out as he had planned," Wynne explained, shaking her head and scowling at the mention of the man's name. "I don't know what became of Uldred, but I am certain all this is his doing. I will not lose the Circle to one man's pride and stupidity," she added firmly.

 _Good,_ I thought, _she still has some fight left in her. Hopefully she can tell us what that blue thing is by the door so we can get past._ "Leave it to us. We'll save the mages," I promised, and Wynne seemed heartened by my words, nodding back towards the door.

"I erected a barrier over the door leading to the rest of the tower, so nothing from inside could attack the children. You will not be able to enter the tower as long as the barrier holds, but I will dispel it if you join with me to save this Circle," she said, and I looked at her in surprise.

 _But…she looks worn out. Is it safe?_ "The Templars may attack at any moment," I warned, and she nodded, crossing her arms and looking back down the hall towards the apprentice quarters, where the Templars had barred the main doors.

"True. We have little time. Once Greagoir sees that we have made the tower safe, I trust he will tell his men to back down; he is not unreasonable," she replied.

"Greagoir will only accept it if the first enchanter says so," I said, remembering the Knight-Commander's words.

"Then our path is laid out before us. We must save Irving," Wynne replied.

"Will the children be safe here?" Leliana asked, looking back at the young apprentices with worry. The children had calmed down a little, but were still watching us with wide eyes. They stared at Sten especially – they had probably never seen a Qunari before.

"Petra and Kinnon will watch them. If we slay all the fiends we encounter on our way, none will get by to threaten the children," Wynne reasoned, and I crossed my arms, nodding.

"I suppose that could work," I replied.

"Petra, Kinnon…look after the others. I will be back soon," Wynne said, and the young woman standing before the children glanced back at her with worry.

"Wynne…are you sure you're all right? You were so badly hurt earlier. Maybe I should come along," Petra urged, but Wynne shook her head, giving the girl a reassuring smile.

"The others need your protection more. I will be all right. Stay here with them…keep them safe and calm," Wynne said, and the girl nodded, still looking a bit worried.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure she returns unharmed," I added, and Wynne looked back at me.

"Your confidence is refreshing, though you should make sure it does not blind you to your weaknesses. If you are ready, let us go end this," the old woman said, and I nodded. We walked over to the strange, glowing barrier, and Wynne sighed, looking at the construct with tired eyes. "Here we are. I am somewhat amazed at myself for having kept it in place this long," she murmured, and I looked at her, slightly worried.

"You did what you had to do, Wynne," I said, and she nodded faintly.

"It made me very weary at times, but I had to stay strong, to keep us safe. Be prepared for anything. I do not know what manner of beasts lurk beyond this barrier," Wynne warned.

"Do not fear, my good lady. Our Grey Warden is very good at fending off attackers. Speaking from experience here," Zevran grinned, and I rolled my eyes at the Elf.

"Why thank you, Zevran – though I doubt the abominations are anywhere near as charming," I replied with a smirk.

"Are you ready?" Wynne asked, and all of us nodded, drawing our weapons. "Alright. Be on your guard," she cautioned, closing her eyes. She raised her hands above her head, waving her staff in a circle, and the barrier shimmered, making a loud buzzing sound before fading away in a cloud of blue mist. Wynne nodded, and we proceeded. As we walked carefully through the deathly silent halls, I noticed Wynne glancing at me, and at Alistair, her brow furrowed slightly. "I must say, you seem very familiar to me. Did I not see you at Ostagar?" she asked me, and I paused, realizing that _that_ was how I recognized her.

"Yes, I was there. I…think I remember seeing you as well; near the mage encampment," I replied – I recalled spotting her as she leaned against a tree near the mage's camp, watching the soldiers and messengers running around camp before the battle.

"I saw you in the camp, with Duncan and some other men. Grey Wardens. You said are one of them?" Wynne asked, and I nodded. "And you too are a Grey Warden, are you not, young ser?" she added, glancing at Alistair.

"Yes, ma'am, you are correct. And please call me Alistair," the Grey Warden replied politely, and Wynne nodded, smiling at him.

"I am pleased to meet you, Alistair. I am sorry for…what happened to your comrades. It was terrible to behold," Wynne sighed, and I glanced at Alistair, shrugging slightly.

"We hardly saw anything," I admitted, "we were far away." _And getting pummeled to death by an ogre,_ I thought, my stomach seizing up uncomfortably at the memory of getting crushed, my grip tightened slightly on the hilt of my blade.

"Loghain turned his back on the king and the Wardens. He is a strategist and must have known the darkspawn would overcome them. All those lives lost…" Wynne murmured, shaking her head sadly. "And Uldred was there. If I find out he knew Loghain was planning this, I'll…well, I won't elaborate," the old woman said, controlling her angry outburst, and I nodded, a grim set to my jaw as I felt my skin crawling, sensing something ahead, my saber's humming growing a bit louder.

"He will get what he deserves," I promised, and Wynne's expression hardened, a determined look in her eye she gazed ahead, nodding slightly.

"Oh, yes. He will get what's coming to him eventually, if I have any say in the matter," she replied, grip tightening around her staff.

We met our first group of abominations shortly after we passed through the barrier, a little ways down the hall. The creatures looked horrific, with hunched backs and swollen, puffy skin, their features half-formed; it was as if someone had made a clay figure of a man and had squashed it in their hands. Zevran and I darted forward with our blades drawn, cutting down as many abominations as we could as we ran by, Alistair and Sten following with heavier attacks, and Leliana and Wynne supporting with arrows and magic.

Some of the creatures exploded when they were struck down; thankfully, no one was standing near them, but from then on, we were careful to stand clear of the bodies when the creatures fell. We passed through a grand, blood-stained library, where books of magic had been torn and splattered with blood, and the mutilated bodies of those who had not become abominations lay strewn about the room. "Maker…" I muttered under my breath as I covered my mouth, looking at the scattered, broken bodies that lay across the floor.

The abominations were practically _everywhere_ ; each time we thought we had defeated them all, more demons and abominations would suddenly appear. The abominations were mixed with more of the strange, slug-like demons; Wynne explained that they were lesser rage demons. Thankfully, the creatures didn't take us completely by surprise – my saber would give us warning enough to brace ourselves for an incoming attack, at least. I watched it intently as we battled the demons and abominations; the strange, blue flames flickered on and off – when I struck an enemy with the flames, the creature would shriek, as if in immense pain…but the flames didn't last very long. _I need to figure out how this works – it seems useful for dealing with these monsters,_ I thought, looking at the sword oddly.

Finally, we came to a circular room with a blood-stained table in the center, the bodies of mages and Templars thrown about. We headed up the stairs, cautiously opening the large wooden door and looking warily about before entering the second floor of the tower. "Owain's room is near here. I hope he's all right," Wynne murmured as we entered a central chamber. I glanced around; the place was a mess. We stiffened, hearing movement nearby, and we spotted a man watching us calmly from behind a set of columns.

"Please, refrain from going into the stockroom. It is a mess and I have not been able to get it into a state fit to be seen," the man droned, his voice monotone, and I looked at him, bewildered by the strange calmness.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, and the man indicated the messy piles of broken crates and ruined materials.

"I am called Owain and I manage the Circle's magical stockroom; I was trying to tidy up, but there was little I could do," he replied calmly.

"Um…aren't you afraid of the abominations?" I asked, slightly disturbed by this strange man's vapid disposition.

"Of course. I am defenseless, and if I ran into one, I would surely perish," he said, and I made a face. _Andraste's Grace, who_ _ **is**_ _this man?_ I thought, looking at the others in confusion. "I tried to leave, when things got quiet. That was when I encountered the barrier. Finding no other way out, I returned to work," Owain explained.

"Owain, you should have said something! I would have opened the door for you," Wynne sighed, shaking her head exasperatedly at the strange man.

"The stockroom is familiar. I prefer to be here," Owain said, and I bit my lip, looking at him oddly.

"How can you be so calm?" I wondered, and Wynne glanced at me.

"He is one of the Tranquil. The Tranquil do not have emotions," she explained.

"I would prefer not to die. I would prefer it if the tower returned to the way it was. Perhaps Niall will succeed and save us all," Owain said.

"Niall?" I echoed the name. "What's this Niall trying to do?" I asked, and Owain shrugged vaguely.

"I do not know, but he came here with several others, and took the Litany of Adralla," the Tranquil man explained, and Wynne's eyes widened in surprise.

"But that protects from mind domination. Is blood magic at work here?" she wondered, her brow furrowed with worry. "Niall was in the meeting. He would know," Wynne recalled. "Blood magic…I was afraid of this," she sighed, nervously fingering some runes on her staff.

"Oh. Great. First _demons,_ and now _blood magic?_ Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if the archdemon himself decides to grace us with his presence next," I muttered, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose – I had never seen Jowan actually _use_ his blood magic before, so I didn't know what we were up against, in all honesty. "So what now?" I asked, and Wynne glanced towards the doorway that led out to the hall, her eyes narrowing slightly as we heard the cries of more abominations.

"We should find Niall. The Litany will give us a fighting chance against any blood mages we encounter," she replied.

"I wish you luck. Perhaps this will be over soon and things will return to the way they were," Owain said, returning to the stock room.

oooo

We plowed through the tower, cutting down more demons and abominations as we went. In one room, we spotted a group of mages muttering things about Uldred, but before we could approach, a rage demon appeared out of nowhere, as if it had been lying in wait, killing them before it turned on us. "Sod, they might have known what was going on," I sighed, looking at the bodies of the mages that lay about, their clothing and skin scorched by the rage demon's flame magic.

"They might have been blood mages; look at the cuts along their palms and wrists," Wynne observed, and I knelt, gingerly turning over a dead woman's arm and finding a few long cuts along her hand – the skin around the wounds was still fairly red, as if she had healed the cuts quite recently.

"I suppose we're lucky they didn't have time to attack," I murmured, standing and looking around the room – the place looked as if it had been turned upside-down, with books, papers and broken furniture scattered everywhere. We searched briefly through the room, looking for anything we could salvage; I found what looked like a torn page from a journal, hidden among some books, but nothing really of interest. "Come on," I prompted, once we were finished, and we continued down the hall.

Each door we opened led to a new battle, and as we made our way through the long hallway, we began to slow, our breathing growing heavy as we forced ourselves on. "Here, let's rest for a minute – we won't stand a chance if we're exhausted," Alistair suggested, and we nodded, taking a short break in a large room with tall, marble statues holding swords. We passed around a water-skin, and I sat on a small bench, looking around warily at the odd-looking corpses that were scattered about.

 _I hope these things don't get up and attack us,_ I thought as I remembered Redcliffe, passing the water-skin to Wynne as the old woman sat down next to me, letting out a soft breath. I stood and drew my blade, walking hurriedly around the room and cutting off each corpse's head – I didn't stop until the saber's hum softened, so that it was barely audible. "Just in case," I said to the others, who were looking at me oddly. I sat back down next to Wynne, running a hand over my forehead and glancing at her. "Can you tell me more about Uldred?" I asked, and Wynne nodded, taking a draught before passing the water-skin to Leliana.

"Uldred…" she sighed, shaking her head. "It's uncharitable of me to speak this way, but I never liked him. He was a squirrelly, twitchy sort of person. He never mentored the apprentices, never taught; he didn't seem to care much for the Circle, only his own advancement," she explained, and I flicked a bit of dried gore from my clothes as I listened.

"Sounds like a thoroughly nasty person," I remarked, and Wynne shrugged.

"I'm sure Uldred has some redeeming qualities. He probably has a perfectly good reason for not displaying them," she replied, not seeming to believe her own words.

"Can you tell me how all this trouble started?" I asked. Wynne let out a soft, weary breath, nodding sadly as she looked across the hall, towards the door.

"It all started when I returned from Ostagar. I was at that ill-fated battle and I survived, barely. I was in no state to travel, so I stayed at Ostagar to recuperate and help the wounded. Uldred, on the other hand, left for the tower almost immediately," she explained, a hint of anger in her voice at the mention of Uldred. "When I finally returned here I found that Uldred had all but convinced the Circle to join Loghain, the man who nearly destroyed us all!" I started with surprise.

"But why? He must have seen what happened," I asked, realizing that Loghain could have convinced the man to help him with promises of power, or freedom from the Chantry.

"I cannot fault the Circle; Uldred had a persuasive argument, and how could they have known what happened in Ostagar?" Wynne continued.

"Perhaps he and Loghain had planned this?" Alistair suggested, and Wynne nodded, crossing her arms and frowning.

"That is my suspicion. Uldred always wanted power; perhaps Loghain promised Uldred the position of First Enchanter, once they had dealt with the Blight," Wynne said, continuing. "Well, I told First Enchanter Irving what Loghain did on the battlefield. I revealed him for the traitorous bastard he is. Irving said he would take care of it; he called a meeting to confront Uldred, but something must have gone wrong. I emerged from my quarters when I heard the screams." She shivered, a distant look in her eyes. "They were coming from the meeting room, and it wasn't long before I saw the first abomination, running down a mage. It deteriorated quickly then."

"Perhaps something happened at the meeting, when they were confronting Uldred," I wondered.

"It must have, though I don't know for sure. The creatures came from that direction, as far as I could tell," Wynne replied.

"This is…troubling," I sighed.

"Have you encountered many abominations apart from the ones here?" Wynne asked, and I glanced back at her.

"Only one – a young boy in Redcliffe. He is possessed by a demon – that is why we came to the tower, initially. Why do you ask?" I replied, and she looked at me carefully.

"You are younger than I, and your nerves yet have some steel in them. Do you feel any fear facing them?" Wynne asked, and I nodded.

"Yes – but they die when cut. So long as I can get to them before they hurt any of you _,_ I can deal with a little fear without losing my head," I replied. The old woman seemed to approve of my reasoning, sighing softly.

"The first time I saw an abomination, my blood turned to ice. It was months before the nightmares stopped," she recalled, a distant look in her eyes. "It was the knowledge that I could easily become one of them that frightened me the most," she admitted.

"But this knowledge drives you to be cautious – Connor, the boy in Redcliffe – lacked caution, and accidently summoned a demon," I replied.

"One slip…all it takes is one slip, and everything you are is simply… _gone_ …replaced by madness. And there is no turning back. Or at least that's what they say," Wynne sighed, glancing at me when I made a small, doubtful sound.

"Mmm…I'm not so sure about that," I said, and she seemed confused. "The thing is, when we met Connor for the first time, he… _came-to_ , I suppose – his eyes cleared for a few moments, and the boy regained himself. It was only temporary, however, and the demon took control quickly afterwards," I explained. "Maybe…the connection between him and the demon isn't complete? I don't know enough about any of this to be certain," I sighed.

"I wonder if…if there is any way an abomination can be…cured. Or if a mage could be so possessed and still retain their sanity. Their humanity," Wynne wondered, staring up at one of the statues near the wall. I suddenly thought of Flemeth, but in _her_ case I wasn't sure if she _herself_ was the demon, or if the original Flemeth had remained in control.

"Well…if one retains their humanity, they aren't an abomination," I argued, and Wynne glanced back at me, a strange look in her eyes as she contemplated my words.

"Yes…it is madness and cruelty that define abominations. If those are lacking, if the mage remembers the person they truly are then…they are not an abomination. I never saw that. Thank you for showing me another way of looking at it," the old woman sighed, and I smiled.

oooo

Once we had recovered, we headed out into the hall, and I glanced into a large office, the walls lined with books – this room seemed relatively untouched, compared to the rest of the chambers up and down the hall. "This is Irving's office. I half-expected to find him here, but…I suppose that's too much to hope for," Wynne sighed, looking around the room.

 _Head Enchanter's study… Seems like the perfect place to keep the secret spells of an ancient maleficar,_ I thought, walking casually about the room, scanning the shelves. "Hey, what's this pile of books on blood magic doing in here?" I wondered, finding a stack of tomes on a table near the First Enchanter's desk.

"Irving said that he was removing them from the library – he didn't want apprentices to be tempted to practice blood magic…but I suppose some managed to learn anyway," Wynne replied, looking at the books sadly.

"Hmm…" I murmured, my eyes carefully looking about the room, pausing as I spotted it; the black tome with the leafless tree twisting over the cover. As the others left the room, I lightly ran my hand across the First Enchanter's desk, sweeping the book into my pack and rejoining them in the hall. Zevran noticed that I walked a short ways behind the others, a small smile on his face.

"What was that?" he asked sneakily, and I rolled my eyes.

"A favor for Morrigan. It's probably better you don't ask," I replied, and he shrugged, respecting my privacy.

We continued on to the third floor, clearing out abominations and minor demons as we went. We encountered a few blood mages, but they were set upon by more demons before we could question them. We made our way through the halls, heading up a set of stairs after rescuing a group of Tranquil from a few abominations, the people thanking us in their eerie monotone voices.

As we entered a large, circular room on the fourth floor, we froze – standing before us was an abomination, much taller than the others, with piercing eyes lit with intelligence. It was standing over a man's body, still faintly breathing, with wide, staring eyes, the pupils dilated and completely still. "Oh, look. Visitors. I'd entertain you but…too much _effort_ involved," the abomination spoke, its voice low and drawling, with a hypnotic quality to it. I stared down at the man's body, and back up at the creature, gritting my teeth.

"Who is that man, and what have you done with him?" I demanded, and the abomination looked down at the body for a moment.

"He's just resting. Poor lad, he was so very, very weary. You want to join us, don't you?" the voice crawled into my ears, tickling my brain, and I suddenly felt tired. My body grew heavy, and I staggered forward with my saber halfway out of its sheath, barely able to stand by the time I realized what was happening. "Wouldn't you like to just lie down and…forget about all this? Leave it all behind?" the voice was hypnotic, and I fell to my knees, my companions suffering the same.

"What is this? Some ridiculous ploy to get me to let down my guard?" I heard Zevran mutter, his voice straining as he gripped his knives, fighting to stay conscious.

"Can't…keep eyes open. Someone…pinch…me," Alistair sighed, collapsing next to me.

"We must stand…and fight…" Sten breathed, leaning hard against a bookshelf and attempting to concentrate by reciting something in Qunlat to clear his head.

"I'll not listen to your lies, demon. You have no…power over me…" Leliana gasped, covering her ears as she slid to the floor, slumping over.

"Resist. You must resist, else we are all lost…" Wynne struggled, leaning hard against her staff and trying to fight the demon's power.

"Why do you fight? You deserve _more_ … You deserve a _rest_. The world will go on without you," the demon breathed in his soothing voice. I felt my eyelids growing heavy, and my breath slowed as I slid to the ground, slumping over as my consciousness faded away.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	20. Chapter 20: In that Quiet Earth

Chapter 20

…in That Quiet Earth

Author's note:

A few changes to the nightmares…

Also, mildly suggestive content in the beginning – just a fair warning

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Alistair…" Alistair blinked a few times as his vision cleared, turning to his right at the sound of the familiar voice. "You looked like you dozed off for a moment there," Adeline teased, poking his cheek affectionately, and he chuckled.

"Sorry love. I just…didn't know where I was," Alistair admitted with a small sigh, looking around. They sat up on the old hill at sunset, overlooking a beautiful valley with a river running down the middle. Behind them stood a medium-sized cabin, built by their own hands, and decorated with woven wreathes of tree branches. "I was thinking about the Blight, actually," he added, and Adeline looked at him with worry, her green eyes moving quickly over his face, searching for something.

"Please, you know you still get flashes of memory when you do that," she chided softly, cupping his face with her hands.

"I'm sorry I worried you," Alistair murmured, leaning over and pulling her close to him, gently brushing his lips against hers. "I just…how did we do it? End the Blight, I mean," he asked, suddenly confused. There seemed to be something… _off_ about the situation, and about Adeline; he just couldn't quite place it.

"We gathered our forces and invaded the Wilds, burning them until the darkspawn fled back underground. We hunted them all through the Deep Roads, and you struck the killing blow against the archdemon yourself," Adeline described, looking at him with shining eyes. "Now, my love, perhaps we should retire for the evening," she added, standing and helping him to his feet.

The Elf woman led him into the house, where they passed by a warm kitchen and living room. There was a portrait above the mantle of the two of them, and standing between them was a young boy with golden hair and green eyes. Alistair paused and stared at it, and Adeline glanced back, looking at him sympathetically. "I know…your memory suffers when you have the flashes," she murmured softly, looping an arm in his. "That's Duncan. Our son," she added.

Alistair's heart seized up, and he opened his mouth, feeling his throat turn dry. He swallowed hard, glancing at Adeline, and she smiled gently at him. "O-ours?" he glanced down and saw that on her finger was a gold wedding band. "Where is…"

"He's full grown now," Adeline answered before he could ask. "He's bought a farm in Redcliffe – sweet on a girl there, he tells me – but he comes to visit every now and again," she finished. "Now come, love," she added in a very different tone, and Alistair felt chills rush up and down his spine at the look in her eyes as they darkened. She led him to their bedroom and began plucking at the hem of his shirt, kissing his neck as he made a nervous sound in his throat.

"Adeline, wait…" he murmured, and she chuckled as she saw the tiniest hint of fear in his eyes. _Something's wrong_ , Alistair thought, sensing it again.

"Darling, you're as nervous as our first time," the Elf grinned lovingly, standing on her toes and kissing him again, wrapping her arms around his neck. "It's still so sweet how nervous you get, even after all these times," she added, nuzzling his cheek affectionately.

"A-all these times?" Alistair echoed anxiously, not entirely disliking what he was hearing.

"More times than I can count," she teased in a sultry tone, giving him a gentle tug. They were suddenly in the bed, lying between the sheets, and Alistair nearly jumped at the shock of finding a completely naked woman beneath him. He shivered as he felt her every curve pressed against him, flames of desire burning through him as he looked at her.

Adeline cupped his face in her hands and kissed him, setting his heart alight, and he pulled her to him, as if they could be any closer. He trailed kisses across her throat and shoulders, and the woman let out a soft moan of pleasure as he moved his hands over her body. "Take me…my love…" she almost begged, gripping him with her thighs, and Alistair froze.

"Wait," he said, and she stared up at him. "There's something wrong." Adeline looked up at him in confusion as he reached out, running a hand through her hair, searching for something.

"What is it?" she asked, and Alistair brushed the hair back from her left temple, not finding the scar.

"It's gone," he breathed, sitting up. "You're not her. You're not Adeline," he growled, suddenly angry. Everything came back to him, rolling through his memory as if a wave had crashed through his mind. The tower; the abominations hunting mages; the Sloth demon that had captured them all.

"That's nonsense, love," Adeline murmured, her tone a bit guarded. "A healer removed it; I hated that ugly thing," she tried, and Alistair snorted derisively.

"The Adeline _I_ know didn't hate that scar – she wouldn't try to get rid of it. You're definitely not her," Alistair accused. 'Adeline' scoffed, sitting up in bed, her eyes flashing from green to yellow, her face curling into a cruel sneer.

"We underestimated you, _Templar_. We thought you were a thick-headed fool like the others of your order," she taunted, scratching him across the face with a clawed hand. Alistair grabbed the demon's throat, forcing her back on the bed as he choked her, and she let out a horrible squeal, her appearance shifting back to Adeline. "Alistair! Why!?" she wept, tears in her eyes, and he flinched, the image from his nightmare from long ago springing to the fore of his mind.

In his moment of hesitation, the demon laughed, its form expanding in shadow and enveloping him, blotting out his senses until he knew no more.

oOo

"Wake up!" I groaned as I heard a voice, rolling over on my side and squinting up at Shianni, her messy red hair shining in the light coming through the dusty windows. "Wake up, Cousin! Why are you still in bed? It's your big day!" Her big, brown eyes were shining with excitement, and I grumbled, pulling the sheets back over my head.

"Uuuunnn…just a little longer…" I moaned, and Shianni snorted, crossing her arms.

"Come on! Don't make me use cold water again," she threatened, and I sighed, rolling into a sitting position, scratching my ear and patting down my messy hair. I let out a long breath, getting up and stretching, wondering why everything felt oddly familiar. "You _do_ remember what today is, don't you?" Shianni prodded, and I glanced over.

"Hmm…Soris's wedding?" I asked, and she grinned.

"A _double_ wedding! You're getting married too!" she replied, and I nodded vaguely, pouring myself a glass of water and drinking it.

"Mmm," I murmured, swallowing the lukewarm water and making a face.

"That's what I came to tell you! Your groom, Nelaros…he's here early!" she bubbled with excitement, and I put down the cup, stretching my arms and letting out a soft groan, feeling strangely sore and worn out, despite having just woken up.

"Already? Then I guess I don't have a choice," I sighed. For some reason, the news of my betrothed showing up early didn't phase me in the least – I even felt the tiniest bit of excitement making my heart tighten a bit.

"That's the spirit! Well, sort of," Shianni said, a crooked grin on her face. "All right, I'll stop tormenting you. I should go talk to the other bridesmaids and find my dress. Oh, Soris said that he'll be waiting for you outside. So move it!" she added, patting my shoulder and heading out.

"Hmm…there's something awfully familiar about all this," I muttered, crossing my arms and staring at the floor. I shrugged, changing into my wedding dress and greeting Dad as he waited in the main room, smiling at me. "So why's Nelaros early?" I wondered, and Dad shrugged.

"I'm sure they sent your betrothed early for good reason. The elder took it in stride, at least," he replied. "Maybe trouble was brewing at the Highever Alienage. Or the family didn't want your betrothed traveling later in the season," he theorized. "Whatever the reason, I paid the dowry, the Chantry issued the permit, and everything worked out fine," he added, and I nodded.

"Well, if that's the way it is, I guess I'm ready," I shrugged, and my father looked at me a bit oddly; perhaps he was wondering why I was so subdued today. I wondered that myself, shrugging it off and reasoning that I must have been tired.

"That's my girl. Think of this as a blessing, not an obligation," Dad said, patting my shoulder affectionately. "Alright, time for you to go find Soris. The sooner this wedding starts, the less chance you two have to escape," he added teasingly, and I rolled my eyes.

"I'll be fine, Dad," I assured him, and he smiled.

"Oh, one last thing before you go, my dear," he said, and I nodded, listening. _This is about my martial training,_ I thought, somehow knowing it before he spoke. "Your martial training…the swordplay, knives, and whatever else your mother trained you in. Best not to mention it to your betrothed," he warned, and I nodded.

"I take it you didn't say anything?" I asked.

"Well, it's not exactly something that would have made it easy to find a match for you," he replied with a shrug. _Well, maybe Nelaros would like that. He's a smith, after…wait._ _ **Wait**_ _. How do I know he's a smith?_ I wondered, not really listening as my father spoke. "Go on, then. I still have some things to do, and Soris is no doubt waiting for you," Dad said finally, and I nodded vaguely, walking outside.

"This is _really_ strange," I said, leaning against the side of the house. "I wonder…" I murmured, crossing my arms and closing my eyes. _I feel like I woke up from a very strange dream…_ I thought, biting my lip. _I know Nelaros is a smith. I…I think I know what he_ _ **looks**_ _like, too – blonde hair…grey eyes… This is all too weird. What was I dreaming about? I was…with people…heading to a tower in the middle of a lake. There was an old woman…a mage, I think…asking us for help. It was me…and…and…!_

My eyes flashed open in astonishment as I absently fingered the thin chord of leather around my neck, pulling it out and staring at the small gold wedding ring. _Nelaros's ring! This isn't real!_ "I'm in the Fade!" I realized, staring about with wide eyes. The instant I realized where I was, I heard shrill shrieking nearby, and strange, misshapen creatures flooded out from alleyways, and from behind houses. I grabbed my saber, only realizing that it was at my side now, and I cut down the monsters, the illusion fading around me.

A strange pedestal, shaped like a hand holding a large, shallow bowl, appeared before me, and I looked at it, finding a number of glowing blue runes submerged in a cool, blue-tinged liquid. One of the runes glowed faintly as I stood near the pedestal, and it shimmered brightly for a moment before changing from blue to silver, the light around it disappearing. A line of blue light connected it to a rune on the top corner of a pentagon, and I reached out a finger, touching the second rune.

Everything around me faded for a moment, and I closed my eyes, my head swimming. When I opened them again, I was standing in a clearing in the Fade, the strange, twisted structures rising up into the alien sky, random floating objects suspended in the air around me. "This is more like the Fade I know," I murmured to myself, crossing my arms and looking about.

Nearby, a man in long, silk robes stood – I recognized him as the one who had been lying by the abomination's feet. "Who are you? Where did you come from? Are you a demon?" the man asked suspiciously as I approached, keeping his hands raised, as if preparing to cast a spell. "No…I see that you're not," he realized. "You're like me. Congratulations on getting out of that trap," he added almost wryly, nodding towards the pedestal behind me.

"Trap? Was that what the dream was?" I asked, and the man nodded.

"Yes. The demon traps everything that comes here in a dream it thinks they can't – or won't – try to leave," he explained. "I thought I'd escaped, too, but I've been wandering these empty, grey spaces for a lifetime," he sighed, his eyes tired and strained.

"How did you end up here?" I wondered, and he snorted.

"Though sheer stupidity, or perhaps very, very bad luck. My name is Niall, by the way," he replied, introducing himself. "I was trying to save the Circle when I encountered the Sloth demon. I expect our experiences were similar."

"Niall? Owain mentioned you," I recalled, remembering what the Tranquil man had said about Niall and the Litany.

"Owain helped me greatly. I suppose I'll never be able to repay him," he murmured. "The Litany was our weapon against the blood mages' domination. But it's too late. Everyone's dead…" he murmured hopelessly, and I shook my head.

"There is still hope, isn't there?" I tried, and Niall shrugged weakly.

"This place drains you of everything… Hope, feeling, life…"

"We'll find a way out," I argued, but Niall only looked at me pityingly.

"No, there _is_ no way out of here. You think there might be, but you'd be wrong," he replied. "You see that pedestal there? I've studied the runes on it – runes that signify different islands of the Sloth demon's domain. The Sloth demon itself is on the center island, but you can't get there. The five islands around the center somehow form a protective ward," he explained, nodding towards the strange pedestal behind me.

"So that's what those glowing runes are for," I murmured, walking over and looking at the basin carefully, studying the different runes. I pursed my lips, drawing my saber – it was practically singing, the humming was so high-pitched, and I compared the runes along the edge of the blade to those in the basin; they were vaguely reminiscent of one another, but those on the saber were more ornate and elaborate than those on the pedestal.

"I thought I was getting somewhere when I figured that out, and I went to each island in turn only to have my hopes dashed," Niall explained, looking at my sword with vague curiosity. "There's always an obstacle; you'll see the path but be unable to get to it, and it taunts you and drives you mad," Niall sighed dejectedly.

"Could my companions be on one of the islands?" I asked, spotting a few smaller runes that branched off from the main pentagon, like the rune that signified my own dream-island.

"I…I don't know. There are many dreamers. You might find a way to reach them through the islands…if you're lucky," Niall replied, and I chewed my lip, looking at the runes carefully.

"What do you know about the Sloth demon?" I asked, sticking my finger into the pool of blue liquid, feeling a strange tingling sensation up my spine. The saber immediately stopped humming, going dead in my hand, and I looked at it oddly as the runes along its length turned black.

"Not much. You couldn't say we were _friends_ , really," Niall shrugged. "Demons have their own hierarchies. They play their own games and mortals serve as…pawns, perhaps even bargaining chips," he explained with almost grim amusement, his tone resigned. "The demon keeping us here probably rules this entire section of the Fade. It'll not let us go easily, if at all."

"It's worth a try. I'm not going to wait to die," I said, taking my finger out of the liquid and holding up a drop that clung to my finger. It was odd – the liquid began to spread slowly over my hand, expanding, and I made a face, feeling the hairs on my arm standing up as my skin prickled with goose bumps. _Maker's breath, what is this?_ I wondered, trying to shake off the substance. It wasn't hurting me or anything, but I wasn't going to wait for that to change.

"Nothing dampens your spirit, does it? I don't know whether to admire or pity you," Niall sighed, watching as I continued to shake my hand furiously, trying to get the liquid off. My hand spasmed and I let out a yelp as it jerked forward, and I plunged my arm into the basin, the liquid flowing up to my elbow as it crawled along my arm. "Holy Andraste!" Niall exclaimed, watching me with surprise as I gritted my teeth – the liquid was suddenly burning.

My grip on the hilt of my blade tightened as I cringed in pain, trying to pull away from the basin, and the saber shuddered as liquid splashed against its length, letting out a roar as it was suddenly on fire. _Oh,_ _ **now**_ _you decide to work!_ I thought with chagrin, glowering at the blade. The liquid in the basin boiled and churned, and I flinched as it splashed a few drops across my face, and into my eyes.

I froze, dropping my sword – a strange sense of clarity suddenly came over me. I felt my body shudder, a strange energy building inside, and I let out a long breath as I calmed, glancing back at Niall; he gasped and stared at me, bewildered. "Your eyes…they're glowing!" he exclaimed, and I looked down into the font as the liquid seemed to settle down, seeing the faint green orbs reflected in the bowl.

"So they are…" I replied, blinking a few times as the liquid rolled down my arm, splashing back into the bowl. A slow smile spread across my lips – the clarity that this liquid brought told me exactly what this basin was, and how it worked. I placed my hand back in the liquid, twisting at the runes of the pentagon until I heard a faint click, and then a distant rumble.

Everything around us seemed to vibrate, and the ground shook violently beneath our feet. Faintly, in the distance, I could hear loud shattering sounds and screams, and I suddenly felt the heavily concentrated energy dissipate, letting out a breath as the tension in my shoulders relaxed, and my sword's flame guttered out.

"Maker's breath, what did you _do?_ " Niall gasped, running over and looking at the pedestal – the lines connecting each rune of the pentagon were glowing blue, and he stared at me. "You…broke the barrier," he breathed, astonished.

"Yes…somehow," I breathed, placing a hand over my heart – it was suddenly pounding, and I felt weak and tingly all over. I turned back to Niall as I caught my breath, sheathing my saber – it was humming faintly once more. "I'm going to find my companions and free them, and then I'll come back for you," I promised. Before he could say another word – or try to discourage me – I pressed one of the runes on the outside of the pentagon, and everything around me faded away.

oooo

I was standing in the Chantry, back in Lothering, though how I knew this I was not sure. There were no refugees, and the Chantry was clean and neat; I walked down the center of the room, sliding a hand lightly over the wooden pews and looking up at the altar before the statue of Andraste. Leliana was there, in her Chantry robes, kneeling before the Revered Mother and praying.

"Blessed art thou who exists in the sight of the Maker. Blessed art thou who seeks His forgiveness…" she was murmuring, her eyes shut, and her hands clasped before her.

"Thank the Maker you're safe," I sighed with relief, walking up to her.

"Blessed – what? Who are you?" she glanced up at me in confusion, her eyes moving slowly over my form; she didn't seem to recognize me.

"Leliana…?" I asked softly, and the Revered Mother looked at me.

"I beg you, do not disturb the girl's meditations," the woman chided, and Leliana glanced up at her, her expression puzzled.

"Revered Mother, I do not know this person," Leliana said, and I bit my lip – this must have been part of the dream; the demons were trying to block out her memories of our journey, as they had tried to in my own dream. Hopefully, if I spoke to her, I could get her to remember me, and realize what was happening.

"We're friends, don't you remember?" I tried to remind her, kneeling next to her. She looked back at me with troubled, blue eyes, as if she thought I looked familiar, but could not quite recall how she knew me.

"Please, do not vex her. She needs quiet and solitude, to calm her mind and heal her heart," the Revered Mother chided, but I ignored her – she was either part of the dream, or the demon in charge of keeping Leliana here.

"Leliana, please listen. This isn't real," I tried, taking the girl's hands in mine.

"Isn't…real? I don't understand," she replied, confused.

"Don't you remember why you _left_ the cloister?" I asked, and she thought for a moment, remembering slowly.

"There…there was a sign…" she murmured, and the Revered Mother made an impatient sound in her throat.

"Leliana, we have discussed this…' _sign_ ' of yours. The Maker does not care to interfere in the affairs of mortals. This 'vision' was likely the work of demons," the woman scoffed, and Leliana looked hurt.

I placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, staring into her eyes. "Leliana, don't listen to her. Trust in what you know – what you believe in," I urged, and she slowly nodded, getting to her feet.

"The Maker cares for us. I believe He misses His wayward children as much as we miss Him. My vision may not be from Him, but it guides me to do what is right," she said firmly, glaring at the Revered Mother. "My Revered Mother knew this. I don't know who you are, but you are _not_ her."

"That's my girl," I grinned, twining her fingers in mine, and she gripped them tightly, looking at me with certainty.

"Let us leave. My head has not yet cleared, but there is something familiar about you, and I believe I…trust you," Leliana said, smiling weakly.

"This is your _home_ , your _refuge_. Do you truly wish to leave the comfort of this place behind? Stay, and know peace," the Revered Mother argued, a hint of desperation in her voice.

"There is no need. I carry the peace of the Chantry in my heart," Leliana smiled warmly at the Revered Mother as she place a hand over her heart, and the woman scowled at us.

"You are going _nowhere_ , girl. I will not permit it," she ordered, and Leliana looked shocked, taking a small step back at the woman's harsh tone.

"Begone, demon – you have no hold over her," I said, stepping protectively in front of Leliana and drawing my saber. It shuddered in the presence of a demon, and the faintest of flames licked along the blade's edge as the runes pulsated.

"No…she is ours, now and forever!" the demon screeched, attacking. I dealt with it quickly, pushing Leliana back so she wouldn't be harmed. The creature shed the skin of the Revered Mother and leapt at me – it looked like one of the walking corpses at Redcliffe, and Leliana screamed.

"Holy Maker…she…she was a…" Leliana stammered, staring at the creature as its body disintegrated, burned up by the blue-grey flames that danced along my weapon's length. "Ugh…my head feels heavy, like I've just woken up from a terrible nightmare," she groaned gently, gripping her head in her hands. The walls of the Chantry melted away around her, revealing the twisted, alien scenery of the Fade. "I believe we had…some task to accomplish. Let us be on our – wait, what's happening to me?" Leliana gasped, her body becoming translucent as she began to wake up.

"I'll see you soon," I called after her as she vanished, hoping she had heard so she wouldn't panic if she woke up to find the rest of us still unconscious. Before me stood a pedestal, similar to the one I had used to get here, and I stepped up to it as I sheathed my blade, selecting the next rune and closing my eyes as the dizzy sensation came over me.

oooo

I opened my eyes, blinking and basking in the warmth of a crackling fire. I looked around – I was sitting on a stool before a fireplace in a small house, with a large cat lounging in my lap. I gingerly put the cat down as it meowed, standing and turning at the sound of children laughing.

Alistair was playing with a pair of young boys, letting them jump up and swing on his arms. "Uncle, uncle! Your friend's awake!" they laughed, running over and gathering around me.

"Hey! You're awake! I was just thinking about you…isn't that a marvelous coincidence? You were so tired before, you drifted right off in front of the fire," Alistair greeted me, grinning from ear to ear. He swept me into a warm hug, and I let out a squeak as he lifted me off the ground, spinning me through the air.

"A-Alistair!" I gasped, gripping his shoulders tightly.

"Yes, my dear?" he asked gently, setting me down, his arms still around me. He leaned in and kissed me lightly, and I blushed, looking up at him with big eyes.

"You…you seem…very happy," I stammered out, and he let out a long, content sigh, squeezing my shoulders as he chuckled, pressing his forehead against mine.

"I am. I'm happier than I've been my entire life. Isn't that strange? I thought being a Grey Warden would make me happy, but it didn't. _This_ does," he grinned. "This is my sister, Goldanna," he said, nodding towards a woman with bright orange hair and kind eyes. "These are her children, and there's more about somewhere. We're one big happy family, at long last!" _He has a_ _ **sister?**_ I thought, staring at the woman as she waved at me.

I felt a heat in my chest as I looked up at Alistair's content face. It would hurt…but I had to tell him that it wasn't real. "Alistair, they're demons," I said softly, and he laughed.

"Oh, that's what everyone says about their relatives, but I've never been happier," he sighed, looking over at Goldanna.

"I'm overjoyed to have my little brother back. I'll never let him out of my sight again!" the woman smiled, her voice light and musical.

"May I…borrow him for a second? We have business elsewhere," I tried, but Alistair shook his head, looking at me sadly.

"I…don't think I'll be coming. I don't want to spend my life fighting, only to end up dead in a pit along with rotting darkspawn corpses," he said, looking into my eyes.

"Well, Alistair, is your friend staying for supper?" Goldanna called from the kitchen, the children running around again.

"Say you'll stay. Goldanna's a great cook. Maybe she'll make her mince pie. You can, can't you?" Alistair asked, smiling at me.

"Alistair, we can't stay here. It isn't right," I said firmly, and he frowned, confused. He let go of me, taking a step back.

"You're acting _really_ strangely," Alistair remarked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Alistair," I repeated in a firm tone, stepping up to him. I placed my hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look into my eyes. "Think. Think _hard_ , and try to remember how we got here," I ordered, and he made a face at me.

"All right, if it makes you happy," he relented, if a bit reluctantly. "I…it's a little fuzzy, that's strange…" Alistair furrowed his brow in confusion, looking into my eyes.

"Alistair, come and have some tea," Goldanna called, trying to break his concentration.

"No…wait…I remember a…tower. The Circle…it was under attack…there were demons. That's all I really remember," Alistair said, looking at me with concern.

"It's because that's _all_ that happened," I replied, and his eyes widened.

"A-are you saying…this is a-a dream? But it's so real…" he breathed, and I let go of his face, looking over at Goldanna as she approached from the kitchen.

"Of course it's real! Now wash up before supper and I–"

"Something doesn't feel quite right here. I…think I have to go," Alistair said, realizing what was happening.

"No! He is ours, and I'd rather see him dead than free!" Goldanna roared, transforming and leaping at us.

"Alistair, stay back!" I yelled, drawing my saber and fighting off the demon, the children transforming as well, hurling themselves at me. 'Goldanna' leapt at me, shrieking shrilly and scratching at my throat as her face contorted in a snarl.

"I'll swallow your soul!" she hissed, and I scoffed, gripping my saber tightly as I kept her back with a foot against her chest, her claws scratching at my boots.

"Swallow this," I retorted, stabbing into her throat and tearing downward, cutting a vertical slit down the demon's length and spilling steaming black blood everywhere as the body toppled over. The 'child' demons screeched and attacked Alistair, but he cut them down quickly, realizing that he had his sword and shield with him. Alistair stood, staring with wide eyes at the demons as his vision began to clear.

"G-Goldanna? I can't believe it. How did I not see this earlier?" he gasped, and I sighed, sheathing my saber and walking back to him.

"We're in the Fade – it does things to your mind," I said simply, and he bit his lip, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Yes…uh, well. Try not to tell everyone how easily fooled I was," he muttered awkwardly, and I chuckled.

"Don't worry about it – they almost had me as well," I replied reassuringly, patting him on the cheek.

"Are we going now? Wait, where are you going? What's happening to me? Hey!" Alistair gasped, his form fading as he woke up.

The Fade pedestal stood before me and I sighed, feeling suddenly drained. "Come on, just three more. You can do this," I told myself, pressing the next rune.

oooo

I blinked, looking around at the high-arched ceiling and beautifully carved pillars; this was the Circle tower. Wynne stood before me, her shoulders drooping in sadness as she looked upon the bodies of young mages, lying in pools of blood all around. "Maker forgive me. I failed them all. They died and I did not stop it," she murmured, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Don't believe it Wynne!" I urged, walking over to her and stepping gingerly around the bodies. She looked at me sadly, but sternly.

"How can I disbelieve what I see, what I hear and smell and feel?" she asked, hugging herself, her narrow shoulders hunched in pain. "Death. Can you not see it? It's all around us."

"Wynne, you're in the Fade," I tried, reaching out and lightly touching her arm. She brushed me off gently, sighing.

"Why was I spared, if not to help them? What use is my life now that I have failed in the task that was given me?" she whispered, closing her eyes. "Leave me to my grief. I shall bury their bones, scatter their ashes to the four winds, and mourn their passing till I too am dead," she sighed.

"You have to fight this feeling, whatever it is," I urged, glaring suspiciously at the bodies, half-expecting them to get up and attack me for trying to interfere. I supposed she thought me a horrible person, by the withering glare she threw me.

"Your blatant disregard for the souls of the dead strikes me as being utterly inappropriate," Wynne said, becoming angry.

"Please think about what you're doing here and why," I argued.

"I do not know what you are trying to tell me. Why must you make this more painful? And where were _you_ when this happened? I trusted you as an ally and you were nowhere to be found," she added, her eyes narrowing at me as she stood a little taller.

"Isn't that proof enough that something isn't right?" I reasoned, and she paused.

"What sort of proof?" Wynne asked, growing suspicious.

"When was it that I supposedly 'abandoned you' to this?" I asked, and she closed her eyes, trying to think.

"We were entering into the tower…and then I remember that there was all this death about me," she breathed. "There was no sign of you, none at all. It was just me and…all this. I…I don't remember anything of them dying. I just know they are dead. Why…why wouldn't I remember them dying?" Wynne opened her eyes, staring at me.

"It is a trick, designed to keep you here in your misery," I explained.

"Something in your speech rings true, but it feels as though my mind is…clouded over. Perhaps some time away from this place will help me think clearly," Wynne said, placing a hand on her head and glancing around warily.

"Being away from here should make you feel better," I added, offering a hand as she stepped carefully around the bodies. They suddenly twitched, and started standing up, the young apprentices rising from the pools of blood, their clothes dripping with red.

"Don't leave us, Wynne. We don't want to be alone," a young boy cried pleadingly. Wynne and I leapt back at their approach.

"Holy Maker! Stay away, foul creature!" Wynne gasped, conjuring a small ball of light in one of her hands.

"Well _that_ backfired," I snorted, drawing my blade, glancing around warily as the apprentices slowly neared us.

"Stay, Wynne. Sleep soundly in the comforting embrace of the earth. Do not fight it. You belong here, with us," the demon sang, reaching out for Wynne.

"N-no. Not yet. My task is not yet done…it is not time yet," Wynne stammered, backing away.

"Come…come away to your rest…" the voice became a sibilant hiss, and the apprentices leapt at us. I knocked Wynne back, gasping as I was dog-piled, the creatures scratching and biting me.

"Auugh!" I screamed as they bit at my arms and face – they were trying to eat me alive. I thrashed and kicked as I covered my head with my arms, struggling futilely under the swarm of bodies. I suddenly felt them fly off, Wynne standing over me with a hard expression, her hands bright with magic as she protected me.

"Are you alright Adeline?" Wynne asked, once the demons had been dealt with. I nodded, taking her hand as she helped me to my feet. I had felt weak again, my strength seeming to seep away the longer I stayed here, and I was trembling in pain, gingerly touching the bite-marks on my neck and feeling the soreness on my arms.

"I'll…I'll make it," I breathed weakly, smiling at her. "Thank you," I nodded gratefully.

"Wait…what's happening? Where are you going?" Wynne asked, her body fading and becoming transparent.

"Goodbye, Wynne," I called, waving as she disappeared. I sighed, glancing down and starting; a heavy iron collar attached to a chain had appeared around my neck, and I grabbed the chain, tugging at it and looking for the end. It hung down to my waist, and seemed to fade out to nothing. "What is this?" I wondered, tugging at it again. The metal wouldn't budge, and I shrugged – I didn't have time to worry about this while the others were still trapped in their dream-prisons. I reached over to the Fade pedestal, pressing the next rune.

oooo

I was in a dark, dry basement, the walls made of sandstone, with faint light drifting in from a window near the ceiling. The sounds of people walking and shouting in a crowded marketplace echoed above us, and the sharp stench of leather wafted down through the window. I heard a creaking sound behind me, and I glanced over, spotting Zevran.

He was being stretched out on a rack, with two other Elves standing and pulling at the machine, tightening the ropes. "I think I saw him flinch that time," one of the Elves said, a cruel grin on his face. The other one stared down at Zevran, who was gasping for breath and clenching his teeth, sweat drenching his body.

"Maybe. We'll make you scream yet, apprentice," the second Elf grinned, and Zevran managed to open one eye, looking up at him.

"We're not going to go easy on you, trust me," the first Elf added, crossing his arms.

"No…I wouldn't…want you to hold back. I'd be disappointed if you…did," Zevran managed to grate out through his teeth, his jaw tightening in pain as he shut his eyes again.

"This one has spirit. It's a shame we have to break him," the first Elf grinned, reaching out to tighten the rack further.

"Let him go!" I yelled, drawing my blades and taking a step forward.

"What…what are you doing here? You're not supposed to be…here…" Zevran gasped out, seeing me through pain-blurred eyes.

"I'm here to save you, Zevran!" I said, and he shook his head quickly.

"I can't…I need to stay strong. This is my test. I am going to be a Crow…I need to show them I can tolerate…pain," he muttered through clenched teeth.

"But you're already an Antivan Crow!" I argued, hoping that he would snap out of it. I staggered forward, landing hard against the rack and gasping for breath, a cold sweat over my body; I felt weak, as if all my energy had been sucked out of me, and I stared down at my hands – shackles of frigid metal burned against my skin, trailing long metal chains over the floor behind me.

"What? That cannot be, and yet…you speak the truth? I can feel it. Is this nothing but a bad dream? A bad memory?" Zevran asked, sitting up as I managed to cut the ropes holding him. The other Elves tensed, drawing their blades behind me.

"Oh, I think he's questioning us. That's a very, very bad thing to do, isn't it?" one of them said, and I forced myself to stand, drawing my saber and holding it up with a trembling hand as the flames sputtered out weakly, the shackles making my skin crawl and my muscles ache as they sapped the heat from my body.

"Yes, it is. Yes…he will be punished for that. Severely punished," the other Elf replied menacingly. As they leapt towards us, I felt Zevran lightly take the blades from my hands, dispatching the demons in a matter of seconds. I slid to the ground, gasping for breath and staring up at him weakly, the chains clinking faintly as I tried to move my arms.

"Well! That was bracing! There's nothing like a good racking, is there?" Zevran sighed, patting himself down. He turned to see me, his eyes widening as he saw that I was barely conscious. "Warden? Adeline, stay with me!" he called as he began to fade, my blades clattering on the ground as he disappeared. I crawled on my hands and knees, almost dragging myself forward as I left a trail of chains behind me, barely managing to collect my weapons and touch the last rune.

oooo

I was in a small clearing, with a fire crackling in the middle, Sten and two other Qunari sitting around it. "Shanedan," Sten greeted, spotting me as I appeared. I took a step forward, my legs giving out beneath me as heavy chains appeared on them as well, and I collapsed weakly on the grass. "Warden," Sten's voice hardened as he stood from his place at the fire.

"Who are you talking to?" one of the Qunari asked, looking at Sten.

"Don't bother the Sten. Isn't it your turn to cook?" the other Qunari asked, and the first snorted.

"Cook what? There's no food in this miserable, frozen country," the first scoffed.

"Parshaara! We have a guest. Make room at the fire," Sten said sternly. I felt him lift me up, surprisingly gentle, and place me by the fire, my body trembling in pain, the chains clicking against each other. He sat next to me, looking carefully at the chains as I took a few deep breaths, managing to fight the pain and collect myself enough to speak.

"Sten?" I managed, my voice strained. He watched me intently, helping me sit up and letting me lean against him, placing an arm behind my back to brace me. "What's going on?" I asked, looking at the other two Qunari.

"Dinner, obviously. Though I don't suggest you eat anything the karashok cooks," Sten explained, and the other Qunari glanced over.

"Unless you enjoy spending time in the latrine," the other Qunari added, and the one cooking snorted.

"Then why don't _you_ cook, kadan?" the karashok asked.

"Not my turn," the other replied simply, shrugging. It was odd to see them speaking like this, after knowing only Sten and his quiet, calculated words.

"Perhaps my memory is failing. I would swear that I've already told you both to shut up," Sten growled beside me, and the two glanced over at him.

"My apologies," the karashok said.

"We've been days in this place. There's no sign of any threat. The arishok's report was wrong. Can we not go home?" the other Qunari asked, looking at Sten.

"No," Sten replied, and they sighed at him.

"None of this is real you know," I said softly, glancing up at Sten. I felt him sigh as he glanced at me.

"I know," he replied, looking at his comrades sadly. "It is a dream…but a good dream."

"…I am sorry…" I whispered. "Sten, I do not wish to…to wake you from a good dream, but if you remain here, they…died for nothing," I argued weakly, wishing that I didn't have to pull him from this if he was happy. I felt Sten let out a long breath, nodding.

"For once, you are right, Warden. I owe them a victory," Sten said. I slumped over, lying on the ground and watching through blurry eyes as Sten fought his comrades, the demons leaping at him with shrieks. "And yet this gives me no peace. I wish to leave this place…" I heard him murmur as everything faded away around us.

"Goodbye…Sten…" I whispered, closing my eyes as I felt more chains crawling over me, engulfing me in a cocoon of frigid metal.

"Warden!"

oooo

I felt a dull thump as I hit the ground, and I shifted slightly, struggling in the chains and letting out a cry of pain as they suddenly turned from cold to hot. The chains slowly shifted around me, receding, and I gasped for breath, struggling to sit up. "Ow…" I murmured, gingerly touching the dark bruises and burns that covered my skin, looking around.

I glanced towards the middle of the strange, circular clearing as the air began to ripple, and a tall demon appeared, wearing elaborately designed robes and a tall, narrow headdress. I staggered to my feet, drawing my saber weakly and standing defensively, breathing hard as I barely managed to stay upright.

"What do we have here? A rebellious minion? An escaped slave?" the Sloth demon asked, chuckling darkly as he looked at me. "My, my…but you do have some gall," he growled. "Playtime is over. You have to go back now." I glanced about in confusion as the air rippled, and my companions appeared, their forms coming into existence around me.

"Oh, here I am! And there you are! You just disappeared. Well, no matter!" Alistair said as he materialized, standing by my side as he saw the tension in my shoulders.

"How did I get here? What happened to all those luscious wood nymphs?" Zevran wondered, looking around in puzzlement.

"You tried to keep us apart. You led us from each other because you fear us. Don't you?" Leliana accused, glaring at the Sloth demon.

"I am here. And it is time to finish this. I have had enough of cages," Sten rumbled, drawing his blade and watching the demon carefully.

"You will not hold us, demon. We found each other in this place and you cannot stand against us," Wynne said firmly, her eyes hardening as she looked at the demon.

"If you go back quietly, I'll do better this time. I'll make you much happier," the demon offered, and I glared at him.

"I want you to free us," I growled, grip tightening on my saber, and the demon scoffed.

"I made you happy and safe. I gave you peace – sent you home to your family," he crooned, placing a hand on his chest. "I did my best for you and you say you want to leave? Can't you think about someone other than yourself? I'm hurt, so very, very hurt," the demon added, and I clenched my teeth as I felt my strength fading again.

"I'll take my chances with the real world," I muttered, and the demon crossed its arms.

"You wish to battle me? So be it…you will learn to bow to your betters, mortal!" the demon laughed, rising into the air, a strange glow appearing around him. I gasped as the chains appeared around my arms and legs again, dragging me backwards and slamming me against one of the strangely shaped pillars. I felt them squeezing me, constricting my breathing, and Leliana gasped beside me, shouting to the others that something was happened. I closed my eyes, the pain unbearable, and when I opened the again, I was engulfed by an unending darkness.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	21. Chapter 21: Afterglow

Chapter 21

Afterglow

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Wynne! Something's happening!" Leliana cried, and Wynne stared at Adeline as the Elf's body began to glow and become ethereal, fading from sight. The chains that had bound her clattered to the ground with loud chimes before vanishing, and Adeline was gone.

"I think the Sloth demon managed to force her back into a dream – it is trying to weaken us!" Wynne theorized.

"But we can find her, right? Like how she found us?" Leliana asked as she nocked an arrow, firing at the Sloth demon as Alistair, Zevran and Sten charged the creature.

"Yes, I am hoping that is possible," Wynne replied, casting a heroic aura spell over the two warriors and rogue. The three dashed forward, engaging the Sloth demon – Alistair, Zevran and Sten held it back, trying to overpower the creature as Leliana and Wynne stood back, attacking with arrows and spells. The Sloth demon was roaring, taunting them as he transformed, shifting between different shapes and attacking – each time he fell, he would get back up and change shapes, renewing his attack.

Alistair's mind flashed to the Tower of Ishal as the demon transformed into an ogre, towering over even _Sten_ as the Qunari buried his blade in the beast's side. It howled in pain, lashing out and batting the warrior aside, his greatsword still in the demon's ribs. "Zevran!" Alistair shouted over the roaring, and the rogue ducked out of the way as the ogre charged, crashing into a Fade pillar. "If I throw you, can you get at its face?" he asked, and the Elf smirked.

"Of course," the assassin grinned, running at Alistair as the Templar lowered his shield like a ramp. As the ogre roared and ran towards them, Zevran leapt onto the shield, and Alistair thrust his arm out, using the shield like a springboard to hurl the Elf high into the air. Zevran's blades flashed as he landed square on the demon's face, burying his knives in its eyes and grinding them down in the sockets, tearing them back and dropping to the ground, ducking as the ogre stumbled forth and let out horrible screams of agony, clutching at its spewing eye sockets.

Sloth's form shimmered, and he took on the appearance of a rage demon, his molten shape reforming as he sank into the ground, resurfacing and lashing out with claws as hot as the sun. Zevran and Alistair let out yelps as they scrambled away from the demon – the leather bindings on Alistair's shield began to smoke and curl from the heat, and Leliana's arrows caught fire and melted into the demon's liquid form. Wynne closed her eyes and concentrated, swirling her stave over her head and cracking the butt of her staff on the ground, gathering the raw Fade energy around her as she engulfed the demon in a tiny vortex of ice and snow.

"Shatter it!" the mage cried as the spell petered out, the frozen demon's form steaming and cracking as Sloth tried to melt the ice. Sten grabbed his blade from where it had fallen, cleaving down in a powerful, overhead strike, shattering the demon.

"Holy mother of Andraste," Alistair gasped, breathing a sigh of relief as he placed a hand over his heart, feeling it pounding under the armored cuirass.

"Stay sharp," Leliana warned, knocking another arrow as the splattered, red droplets of magma began jiggling about on the ground, rolling back towards the largest pool of the substance and beginning to boil. The puddle turned black before lightening to grey, and the form of an abomination rose from the liquid, dashing towards Leliana with outstretched claws.

The rogue ducked and dropped her bow, lashing out hard with her elbow as she drew her hunting knife. Zevran was at the demon's back a moment later, burying his knives in its shoulders and yanking Sloth backwards, pulling him away from the two women. "Watch the swords!" Zevran hissed through his teeth as both Alistair and Sten stabbed into the demon, barely wrenching his blades out of its back as it was run through.

"Parshaara, have we not killed it thrice over?" Sten growled, watching the demon's body twitch and crumble to dust, rising once more as a ragged creature of smoke and ash. Icy claws dragged across the Qunari's arm as he tried to block with his blade – the wraith's form passed through the sword and armor, meeting skin and cutting into his flesh. Wynne cast flame spells at the shade, and it shrieked in pain as it spiraled wildly around the clearing, passing through walls and pillars as the mage hounded it with magic.

Sloth returned to his original form, snarling at his five opponents and gripping at his middle, his eyes filled with hatred. "How…how _dare_ you defy me…" he choked out, raising his arms to cast magic at them. Leliana filled him with arrows, staggering the demon as Alistair and Sten charged, and Zevran darted in from behind, stabbing Sloth in the back of the neck and cutting off his head. Finally, the creature was defeated, shrieking and exploding in a cloud of dark smoke.

They all stood around the pile of ash, panting for breath as they half expected Sloth to rise up and attack once more. "And these things stalk our dreams?" Zevran muttered, making a face.

"That is a…terrifying thought," Leliana admitted, placing a hand over her heart as she let out a sigh.

"…where's Adeline?" Alistair asked as he sheathed his blade, looking back at the others – he had been so caught up in battling Sloth that he hadn't even realized she had been missing.

"We think the demon forced her back into another dream. Maybe it wanted to keep her out of the fight?" Leliana explained, and Alistair crossed his arms.

"How did she even find us all in the first place?" Alistair wondered, glancing around.

"She broke out of Sloth's trap," a voice explained, and everyone glanced over as they spotted a dark-haired man approaching.

"Niall?" Wynne asked, and the man nodded, stopping before the group.

"Good to see you, Wynne. Now, it looks like Sloth used up a large amount of energy trying to get her away from battle. The way to get into another's dream from here is using one of these pedestals," Niall indicated the hand-shaped pillar with the bowl resting on the palm, "but it seems he tried to seal her away. I might be able to help the process along, but it will take a lot of power, and I only have energy enough for one," Niall continued.

"We just need to convince her that she's dreaming, right?" Leliana asked, and Niall nodded.

"Yes, that will probably be enough to wake her up. Quickly, though – with Sloth dead, this place won't last much longer," Niall urged.

"I'll go," Alistair said, stepping forward. "Tell me what to do," he added to Niall, who nodded, explaining how to work the pedestal.

oooo

There was darkness everywhere; Alistair couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed. He took slow, deliberate steps forward as he moved, not wanting to trip or fall over anything. A small light, faint and far away, appeared, and he made his way towards it, blinking and squinting in the sudden brightness as the light seemed to rush towards him.

He stood in what looked like a grand hall, the walls hung with tapestries and decorated with portraits of stern-looking nobles. As he walked he glanced around and jumped – there were bodies of what he assumed were the estate guards strewn about the corridor, and the walls and floor were splattered with blood, still fresh and dripping. Alistair ran down the hall as he heard the clashing of weapons, and he ran into a room at the end of the hall just as a tall, blonde-haired Elf was run through, right before his eyes.

Alistair stared, his eyes moving quickly around the room as he took in every detail; the world seemed to be moving in slow-motion as the blonde Elf fell. To the left, lying on a bed was a naked Elf woman, the sheets around her covered in blood, and her body dotted with bruises and bite-marks as tears streamed from her eyes – Alistair recognized Shianni's face from Adeline's sketch. To the right was a tall, red-haired Elf man in a wedding suit, firing a crossbow bolt into the neck of a human man brandishing a longsword – Alistair recognized this Elf as Soris.

"Nelaros!" he heard a familiar voice shriek, and he stared at Adeline as she watched the body of the blonde-haired Elf fall. "You _bastard!_ " she roared, leaping at the attacker and cutting off his hand. Alistair was surprised by the ferocity in her attacks – there was nothing left of her opponent by the time she was through, but looking back at Shianni, and at the dying Elf on the ground, he understood her rage. Adeline dropped her blade and stared at the body, turning back to look at the blonde Elf as he lay on the floor, gasping for breath.

The room seemed to freeze around them, darkness creeping in so that Adeline and the other Elf were the only things that moved. Alistair was silent as he watched her kneel next to him, tears rolling down her cheeks as she whispered his name, 'Nelaros', and pulled him to her, rocking slowly back and forth as she cradled his head in her arms. "Adeline…you're crying…" Alistair could hear the Elf say, raising an arm and running a finger across the weeping girl's cheek.

"Please…please don't die," she wept, tears mixing with blood as they ran down her face. Alistair looked down at the ground, his heart aching for her. _This is…why she left Denerim, then,_ he realized.

"You're much prettier when you smile. Don't let this take it away…" the Elf sighed, closing his eyes. "I thought…maybe we could be happy together. I could…take you away…where the humans couldn't hurt us… Please…please don't be sad…" he murmured, his voice drifting off as life faded from him.

"Nelaros? Nelaros! Please!" Adeline wailed, feeling his throat for a pulse. "…no…" she whispered, holding the body tighter to her. After a while, she placed the body down and closed her eyes. Soft sobs wracked her small frame, and Alistair took a tentative step forward, wanting to find some way to comfort her. Adeline stared up at him with a look of surprise, and then horror; it nearly broke his heart at the look of fear in her eyes. "S-stay back!" she stammered, reaching behind her for her blade.

"Adeline, it's me, Alistair," Alistair said gently, raising his hands to show that he was unarmed.

"I don't know you, shem, but even _you_ can see that I'm not in the mood for games," she said in a low voice, staggering to her feet and taking a step away from him, holding her saber defensively before her. She was shaking so hard that she could barely hold the blade up, and the tip of it was quivering as she pointed it at him.

"Adeline, please, try to remember," Alistair urged, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Come on, you remember how we met, right?" he asked, taking a small step towards her. "Duncan recruited you into the Grey Wardens and you came to Ostagar. You saw me arguing with a mage, and you were laughing at my jokes," Alistair said, and he saw a hint of recognition in her eyes as the tip of her saber lowered slightly. "And then after the battle, we went to Lothering with Morrigan and met Sten and Leliana there," he added, and Adeline slowly lowered her blade, staring at him.

"I…I don't understand. I feel like I know you… That you're telling the truth…" she murmured, watching as Alistair approached. He reached out, and she let him take the blade from her trembling fingers. "Alistair?" Adeline asked, looking up at him with tears in her eyes.

"Shh…everything will be alright…" Alistair murmured, wrapping his arms around her as Adeline sobbed, burying her face in his chest as he held her. She wept brokenly, and he patted her back gently as she let everything out, her breath coming in ragged gasps and hiccups. "Feeling better?" he asked gently as she breathed out a long sigh, and Adeline gazed up with red eyes, nodding slightly.

"Yes…I…I needed that…" she murmured, resting her head back against his chest.

"Hey, what's happening to me?" Alistair gasped suddenly, looking at a hand – it was becoming transparent as he faded away.

"You're waking up…" Adeline sighed, looking up at him with a weak smile.

"Wait, aren't you coming with me?" Alistair asked worriedly, seeing that she was still solid.

"Yes. I need to rescue Niall first," Adeline explained.

oooo

Alistair found himself back in the tower, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. He let out a soft groan and sat up, his body feeling stiff. The others were stirring around him as well, and he immediately went to Adeline's side. The girl was breathing faintly, and he sighed with relief that she was alright. He glanced at the others as they got up and joined him, looking at Adeline with concern.

"Why isn't she waking up?" Leliana asked worriedly.

"She said something about saving Niall," Alistair replied, gently brushing a bit of hair from the Elf's left temple, checking to make sure her scar was there. It was, and he gave a small sigh of relief. He would never tell _any_ of them about that first dream. He was suddenly glad that the demon had sent him to a second dream; if Adeline had walked in on them in their…compromising position, he just might have died of embarrassment.

"We should scout ahead," Zevran remarked as he got to his feet, shaking the stiffness out of his shoulders. "It will save us time while the Warden wakes up." While Alistair was loath to leave her side, he nodded, reluctantly standing and following Zevran and Sten as they went further into the hall.

oOo

Alistair vanished before he could argue with me, and I stood there for a few moments, letting out a long breath and running a hand through my hair, walking over to the Fade pedestal and returning to the arena where the Sloth demon had been. I walked up to the remains of the sloth demon in the center of the island, looking through them in silence. "There it is," I murmured, kneeling and sifting through the dark ashes and scraps of cloth, finding a small, black pearl. I knew what it was – my strange new knowledge obtained from the liquid in the font – and I walked over to the Fade pedestal, returning to where Niall was trapped.

"You defeated the demon. I never thought…I never expected you to free yourself, to free us both," Niall breathed as he saw me appear. "When you return…take the Litany of Adralla from my…body. It will protect you from the worst of the blood magic," he added sadly, and I crossed my arms.

"Aren't you coming to help?" I asked, and he shrugged weakly.

"I cannot go with you. I have been here far too long. For you it will have been an afternoon's nap; your body won't have wasted away in the real world while your spirit lay in the hands of a demon," he explained, and I bit my lip, looking down at the large pearl and rolling it in my fingers. "Every minute I was here, the Sloth demon was feeding off of me, using my life to fuel the nightmares of this realm. There is so little of me left… I was never meant to save the Circle, or…survive its troubles. I am dying. It is as simple as that," he sighed, and I shook my head.

"Not if I can help it," I replied, walking over.

"What are you doing?" Niall asked. I took his hand, walking him over to the pedestal and pointing at it.

"That. You don't know what the liquid is, do you?" I questioned, and he shook his head slowly, wondering what I was talking about. "It's…uh…your life force," I explained awkwardly. "When it got into my eyes, I understood what was going on – it contains your knowledge and memories, combined with those of Sloth. I know how get you out of here, if you still have sufficient will," I added, and the tiniest spark of hope lit the mage's eyes.

"Could you?" Niall asked, and I nodded.

"Here," I said, handing him the pearl. "Swallow it, and drink all of this," I explained. He took the pearl in his mouth, and I pulled the bowl from the pedestal, handing it to him. Niall drank, closing his eyes as the liquid sent burning energy into him.

The earth shook beneath our feet, and the Fade structures began to collapse around us; now that the demon was gone, and the energy that sustained the place had returned to its original owner, the place was barely holding itself together. Everything began to fade around us, and I took Niall's hand as we began to wake, returning to our mortal forms.

oooo

I gave a loud gasp, my body jolting violently, and I felt light hands gripping my shoulders tightly. "Easy!" Leliana said, her hands firm. I was breathing hard, covered in sweat, and as I blinked my eyes open, I looked at Leliana's upside-down face. I was lying on the ground, with my head resting in the concerned girl's lap, cringing in pain as my muscles cramped up.

"Ow…" I murmured, and Leliana let out a sigh of relief.

"Maker's _breath_ Adeline! You had us so worried!" she scolded, pinching my cheeks affectionately, and I grinned weakly up at her.

"Aw, really?" I asked, trying to sit up. Leliana placed a hand on my shoulder, telling me not to move around so much. "Is everyone else okay?" I asked, glancing about the room. Wynne was looking me over carefully, making sure I wasn't hurt, but no one else seemed to be around.

"Everyone's fine," Leliana assured me, lightly brushing some hair from my face as she looked down with concern. "The boys ran ahead once they saw you were going to pull through, and cleared out the rest of the floor. I thought it was sweet, how worried they were – even _Sten_ looked concerned," Leliana smiled gently, and I gave a weak laugh.

"Do you…remember what happened…in the Fade?" I asked, and she bit her lip, nodding.

"You rescued us…" she murmured, brushing my cheek lightly.

"Of course I rescued you, silly," I smiled up at her, "you're my friend." I glanced to the side as I heard a loud gasp, and Wynne stared in the direction of the sound, her eyes wide.

"Andraste's grace!" she breathed, walking over and kneeling by Niall as he slowly sat up, breathing hard. "I thought the demon had taken you," she murmured, and the mage shook his head, looking at me gratefully.

"It didn't, thanks to her," he said, nodding towards me.

"Good to see you made it, Niall," I smiled. He rummaged through his robes, taking out a scroll decorated with gold leaf.

"That's the Litany," Wynne said, looking at the paper, and Niall nodded.

"Yes. We'll need this if we're to face Uldred and the other blood mages," the man replied, handing the scroll to Wynne. "I wish I could be of more use, but in my weakened state, I'll only get in the way," he apologized, and I shook my head, slowly sitting up.

"You've already done more than enough to help us," I replied, and Niall looked at me gratefully.

"If you head downstairs, Petra and Kinnon are protecting some children in the hall, by the basement doors, and Owain is by the stockroom. You will be safe with them," Wynne explained, and Niall thanked us once more, heading down the stairs to join the others.

"Thank the Maker you're safe," Alistair breathed, once he and the others had returned. He helped me to my feet, and I leaned against him for support, my legs still a bit weak.

"Takes more than an abomination to put me down," I teased, and he sighed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"That doesn't stop me from worrying about you," he replied. Without another word, he scooped me into his arms, ignoring my protests as we continued.

"Come on Alistair, put me down – my legs aren't _broken_ or anything," I complained, and he kept a firm grip on me as I struggled. I gasped as a wave of dizziness washed over me, and he sighed, giving me a pointed look.

"See? Just sit still and rest, and you'll be able to walk soon," he chided, and I grumbled weakly, complaining that his armor was too cold. We made our way slowly through the halls; Sten, Alistair and Zevran had taken out all the demons and abominations while I was still in the Fade, so the path ahead was silent. I managed to regain myself enough to walk, but Alistair kept close to me, his eyes still worried as he watched me.

Wynne said that the stairs were in a room just ahead as we reached the end of the hall. As we entered, we started in surprise; a strange, glowing purple light was surrounding a Templar, who was kneeling with his hands clasped before him, his eyes shut tightly in pain.

"It's a Templar! He…he's still alive, I think! We must help him!" Wynne gasped, and I nodded, walking over slowly.

"This trick again? I know what you are. It won't work. I will stay strong…" the Templar muttered through gritted teeth, seeing me approach.

"The boy is exhausted. And this cage…I've never seen anything like it," Wynne remarked, looking at the glowing purple light that surrounded the man. "Rest easy…help is here," she assured him, but the Templar shook his head.

"Enough visions. If anything in you is human…kill me now and stop this game," he almost pleaded, closing his eyes tightly.

"He's delirious. He's been tortured…and has probably been denied food and water. I can tell," Leliana murmured, unhooking the water-skin from her belt. "Here, I have a skin of–"

"Don't touch me! Stay away!" the man cried, glaring at us. "Filthy blood mages…getting in my head… I will not break…I'd rather die," he muttered darkly.

"Where are the other survivors?" I asked, and the Templar looked at me oddly.

"What others? What are you talking about?" he retorted impatiently, clearly confused.

"Irving and the other mages who fought Uldred. Where are they?" Wynne pressed, and the man shook his head, a distant, horrified look in his eyes.

"They are in the Harrowing Chamber. The sounds coming out from there…oh, Maker…" the man murmured, shuddering and shutting his eyes.

"We must hurry. They are in grave danger, I am sure of it," Wynne said, looking up towards the door as we heard a scream. I narrowed my eyes slightly as I felt my saber vibrating on my hip – even _more_ frantically than when we met Connor – sensing something from the chamber. My skin crawled as I gripped the handle, trying to settle the blade down, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

"You _can't_ save them. You don't know what they've become," the Templar argued, and I glanced back at him.

"We can't just _kill_ them," I countered, but he shook his head, staring at me.

"They've been surrounded b-by blood mages whose wicked fingers snake into your mind and corrupt your thoughts," he hissed, his eyes terrified.

"His hatred of mages is so intense…the memory of his friends' deaths is still fresh in his mind," Alistair murmured, looking sadly at the Templar.

"He's suffered pain and anguish like few have had to endure. That and his lust for revenge have confused the issue–" Wynne began, but the man cut her off.

"Do _not_ presume to judge me, mage! I _am_ thinking clearly – for perhaps the first time in my life," the man retorted, glaring up at the old woman.

"Your outrage says differently…I agree with Wynne," I replied, and the man narrowed his eyes at me in anger.

"Then you are a fool who does not see to the heart of the situation," he growled, glaring up towards the Harrowing Chamber. "To ensure this horror is ended…to guarantee that no abominations or blood mages live, you must kill _everyone_ up there."

"No. I'll not have the blood of innocents on my hands," I said firmly, and the man shook his head.

"That is your choice to make, but I beg you to consider what I have to say," he urged. "You cannot tell maleficarum by sight. Just one could influence the mind of a king, of a Grand Cleric. _You_ may be confident in your ability to stand up to them, but what about the rest of us? Will you protect us from them?" the man asked, and I felt my jaw tighten.

"I'll not let my companions fall to blood magic, no matter what happens to me," I replied, my eyes hard as I looked up towards the doors to the Harrowing Chamber, hearing bloodcurdling screams from within.

"No one ever listens, not until it's far too late," the man muttered, shaking his head. "Maker turn his gaze on you. I hope your compassion hasn't doomed us all," he added, lowering his head as he returned to his prayers.

I crossed my arms, looking up towards the doors and chewing my lip nervously. "Adeline, you're still weak from earlier. You should stay out here," Alistair argued, and I looked back at him sternly.

"Alistair, I'm not going to sit by and let the rest of you face whatever's in there," I retorted, and he made a face.

"Why are you _always_ so stubborn?" he complained, and I rolled my eyes.

"Because I know it annoys everyone," I replied with a smirk, walking up to the doors before the others could argue. "Come on. We've got a demon to kill," I added, opening the doors and entering the Harrowing Chamber.

oooo

A bald mage stood with two abominations at his side, the creatures holding a haggard-looking mage by the arms. The man screamed as the bald mage waved his arms around, casting a spell; blue light surrounded the man, and his agonized cries made my skin crawl as he was tortured.

"Do you accept the gift that I offer?" the man – Uldred I assumed – asked, and the tortured mage nodded weakly, his eyes blurred from pain. He fell to the ground as the abominations dropped him, and his body twitched and spasmed. Uldred and the abominations began casting a spell on him, and he screamed, his skin boiling and crawling, swelling outward and turning dark and raw. His form glowed and expanded, and he became an abomination before our eyes, standing and looking up at Uldred.

"Maker's blood…" I hissed through my teeth as we approached, and Uldred turned, looking us over.

"Ah…look what we have here. An intruder. I bid you welcome. Care to join in our…revels?" the bald man asked, greeting us.

"I take it you're Uldred," I remarked, and he sneered. I recognized him from Ostagar – he had been at the meeting with Loghain and the king, arguing with the Revered Mother.

"Oh. Very observant," he replied mockingly. "I'm quite impressed you're still alive. Unfortunately, that must mean you killed my servants," he added, placing a hand on his chin, and not looking unduly troubled by that fact. "Ah, well, they are probably better off dying in the service of their betters than living with the terrible responsibility of independence," Uldred shrugged, and I watched him warily.

"You'll soon _follow_ your servants," I growled, partially drawing my blade, and Uldred raised his hands defensively, his eyes lingering on the glowing runes along the singing metal.

"Wait, wait, wait…let's not be hasty. I'm trying to have a civilized _conversation_ here," the man said, and I snorted.

"I do not converse with abominations," I snarled, drawing the saber all the way, and Uldred raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? All high and mighty, are we? Just because you've been in that form so long, you don't think you're one of us anymore?" he asked, and I opened my mouth, pausing when I realized what he had said.

" **What** " I said flatly, and Uldred looked at me for a few moments, his eyes shinning with mirth as he cackled.

"Oh? You don't even _realize_ it!" he laughed uproariously, and I stared at him.

"Realize… _what?_ What are you _talking_ about?" I asked quietly, looking at him suspiciously.

"A mage is but the larval form of something greater. Your Chantry vilifies us, calls us abominations, when we have truly reached our full potential!" Uldred grinned, still amused by my confusion. "Look at them - the Chantry has them convinced. They deny themselves the pleasure of becoming something… _glorious_ ," he breathed, indicating the mages that were bound nearby, staring at him with terrified eyes.

"You're _mad!_ There's nothing _glorious_ about what you've become, Uldred!" Wynne yelled, gripping her staff so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"Uldred? He is gone. I am Uldred and yet not Uldred. I am _more_ than he was," the abomination chuckled, crossing his arms. "I could give you this gift, Wynne. You and all mages. It would be so much easier if you just accepted it. But some people can be so stubborn," he sighed. "I even have the First Enchanter on my side, don't I…Irving?" he asked, looking down at an older man, his long, grey beard spotted with blood.

"What have you done to him!?" Wynne cried, staring at the First Enchanter.

"Stop him…he…is building an army. He will…destroy the Templars and–" Irving gasped out, his body trembling in pain.

"You're a sly little fox, Irving, telling on me like that. And here I thought he was starting to turn," Uldred crooned in a sing-song voice, narrowing his eyes at the old man.

"N-never," the First Enchanter muttered through clenched teeth.

"That's enough out of you, Irving. He'll serve me, eventually. As will you…" Uldred grinned, looking back at me, his eyes flashing yellow. "Killing you would be a waste. Your raw potential…it would be so much greater if you simply… _woke up_ ," he said. "It still sleeps within you – you have forgotten who you are… _what_ you are…" he sneered, enjoying my confusion.

"Speak clearly!" I demanded, tensing at his words, a pit of ice in my stomach as his grin widened, long, pointed teeth lining his mouth.

"Fine, then. I will show you…little sister," he replied, holding up a hand. I gasped, my heart suddenly clenching up, and I fell to my knees, my blade clattering on the floor next to me. I felt myself rising slowly off the ground, hanging in the air like a puppet, my arms thrown back as my chest burned, heart throbbing so quickly that it felt like it would rupture. My mouth was open in a silent scream of agony – it hurt too much to even make a sound.

"Adeline!" Alistair cried, staring at me. The others were thrown back as they tried to approach, as if an invisible force were pushing them away, and I gasped for breath, shutting my eyes tightly as my chest ached and throbbed.

"Stop it!" I managed to gasp out, tears of pain pouring from my eyes, but Uldred only laughed.

"You'll thank me later!" he grinned, and the world spun around me as my vision swam, blotted with red and black. My entire body shuddered, my skin crawling and my hair prickling along my scalp as my consciousness was engulfed in darkness. Uldred's form began to shimmer, and he grew tall and wide, a giant, muscular demon standing before me. "You will be a worthy servant," he laughed, and I stared at him through pain-blurred eyes as my entire body burned.

Everything around me was a haze of pain. Flashes of bright colors and loud sounds echoed and swam by, and I felt my body moving on its own, not really knowing what I was doing. I heard screams and shouts around me, and a great, pained roar as Uldred's demon form came briefly into my vision before fading out again.

oOo

Alistair shuddered, gasping for breath and coughing, as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He sat up and gripped his head, looking about dizzily. The room was silent, and the others were beginning to stir beside him as he staggered to his feet, feeling ill from the sudden movement. His ears were still ringing, and his head swam; he fought to hold down his last meal, taking long, slow breaths as he assessed the situation.

The abominations had stopped attacking, lying dead in the corners of the room, as if they had been thrown there like ragdolls, and Alistair's eyes widened as he surveyed the damage – the creatures had deep claw-marks in them, and as he turned his head, he took in a sharp breath. He hadn't realized what he was looking at until he noticed that the floor was slick with a layer of blood; the body of a pride demon – Uldred, presumably – was lying strewn across the room, torn to pieces.

Adeline lay in the center of the destruction, her face spattered with blood, her clothes soaking up the dark liquid as she lay with her cheek pressed against the stone floor. "Adeline," Alistair managed to gasp, staggering over to her as he slowly regained control of himself, the dizziness and nausea settling down. He knelt down next to her, relief going through him as he saw her chest slowly rising and falling. _Oh, thank the Maker,_ he thought, letting out a sigh of relief.

The others had begun moving as well, and Alistair glanced back, watching their reactions of confusion as they tried to regain themselves. "Maker's breath, what _happened?_ " Leliana exclaimed as she and the others stared about, seeing the bodies of the abominations, and of the pride demon.

"I have no idea," Alistair admitted, looking back down at Adeline. She didn't seem to be injured, and he gathered her up in his arms, blood dripping off of her clothing and down her face as he lifted her off the ground. "For such a tiny thing, you sure can make a huge mess," he murmured, glancing about the room.

"You don't think… _she_ did all of this?" Wynne asked, bewildered.

"I…don't know. Maybe whatever Uldred was trying to do backfired, and ended up tearing him apart…or at least, that seems most likely," Alistair replied. "Do you…know what he was doing?" he added, and Wynne shrugged, just as confused as he was.

"I _believe_ he was trying to turn her into an abomination…but it felt…strange," Wynne admitted. "It was like he was trying to pull something _out_ of her, not put a demon inside, like the other mages…" she trailed off, trying to figure out what was going on. Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard faint groans from around the room, and the mages that Uldred had captured began to stir. "Irving!" she gasped, hurrying to the First Enchanter's side, and the old man groaned softly as she helped him sit up.

"Maker…I'm too old for this," Irving sighed, massaging the back of his head and looking up at Wynne.

"Irving! Are you all right?" Wynne asked, sighing with relief as Irving nodded.

"I've…ngh…been better. But I am thankful to be alive. I suppose that is your doing, isn't it, Wynne?" the First Enchanter replied. He looked around at the destruction, watching as the other mages slowly sat up and got to their feet. Leliana and Wynne helped the old man up, letting him lean against them for support.

"I wasn't alone. I had help," Wynne said, indicating Adeline and her friends.

"The Circle owes you all a great deal," Irving said, nodding his head in thanks to Alistair.

"Greagoir has blocked us in – he will only accept that things are safe if he hears it from you," Wynne explained, and Irving nodded slightly.

"I will need some help getting down the stairs. Curse whoever insisted the Circle should be housed in a tower," the old man complained softly, leaning against Leliana as those who remained gathered about, heading out of the Harrowing chamber and going down the stairs.

oOo

For a long time there was nothing, and I felt as if I were floating in water. A gentle pressure against my side brought me into focus, and I opened my eyes slowly, making a faint sound. "Nng…what happened?" I asked weakly, feeling something against my head. I looked up blearily, finding my cheek pressed against Alistair's shoulder.

Alistair was silent, looking down at me with worry, his grip tightening on me as I came-to. We were walking through the tower's halls, the others casting concerned glances back at us as Alistair carried me. "We don't know," he murmured softly. "When Uldred was doing…whatever that was, we were all thrown clear. The next thing we knew, you were lying in a pool of blood, and the demon was torn apart around you. Somehow he was…ripped to pieces," he explained, and I looked up at him in confusion.

"But…I don't remember anything…" I murmured. "The mages…are they safe?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Yes. The First Enchanter and any others who survived went on ahead of us while Wynne was checking you over. She said that you're not hurt," he said softly.

"Not on the outside at least," I sighed, closing my eyes and resting my head back against his shoulder. "My head's throbbing, and I feel like I just got hit by a runaway carthorse," I groaned, and he smiled faintly.

"I'm glad that you're well enough to complain about it, at least," he replied, and I smiled weakly back at him.

"No one else is hurt?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"Only minor cuts and bruises," he replied.

"That's good…" I sighed. By the time we neared the entrance hall of the tower, rejoining the mages by the large doors, I felt well enough to stand, although Alistair kept a hand at my elbow in case I suddenly collapsed. We called out to the Templars on the other side; they opened up once they heard the First Enchanter's voice behind the doors.

"Irving? Maker's breath, I did not expect to see you alive," Greagoir said, approaching us as we came into the main hall.

"It is over, Greagoir. Uldred…is dead," Irving sighed, still worn out from the ordeal. The young Templar who had been trapped, who I learned was named Cullen, stepped forward, looking at the Knight-Commander with fearful eyes.

"Uldred tortured these mages, hoping to break their wills and turn them into abominations. We don't know how many of them have turned," he explained, and Irving looked at him indignantly.

"What? Don't be ridiculous!" the old man said, his tone carrying a hint of anger.

"Of course he'll say that! He might be a blood mage! Don't you know what they did? I won't let this happen again!" Cullen argued, narrowing his eyes at Irving suspiciously.

"I am the Knight-Commander here, not you," Greagoir said firmly, looking sternly at the younger Templar, who still looked unconvinced.

"Well, what does the Knight-Commander think, then?" I asked, glancing up at the man.

"We have won back the tower. I will accept Irving's assurance that all is well," Greagoir replied, keeping his word.

"But they may have _demons_ within them, lying dormant…lying in wait!" Cullen cried, and Greagoir held up a hand for silence.

"Enough! I have already made my decision," the Knight-Commander said, and Cullen glowered at the ground, nodding reluctantly. "Thank you. You have proven yourself a friend of both the Circle, and the Templars," Greagoir added, looking back to me.

"It had to be done," I replied.

"I promised you aid, but with the Circle restored, my duty is to watch the mages. They are free to help you, however. Speak to them," the Knight-Commander said, and I nodded. "For now, I will have to oversee a sweep of the tower. There may be some survivors and we should do our best to tend to them. Please, excuse me." He turned to look at the First Enchanter. "And Irving…it is good to have you back," Greagoir added.

"Ah, I'm sure we'll be at each other's throats again in no time," the old man replied, watching as the Templars began organizing into groups, marching into the halls to check for any remaining abominations or demons, or surviving mages. "Here we are, the tower in disarray, the Circle nearly annihilated…though it could have been much, much worse," Irving sighed, looking around the main hall and glancing at me as I walked over to him, nodding gratefully. "I am glad you arrived when you did. It's almost as though the Maker Himself sent you." _I seem to get that a lot,_ I thought, refraining from saying so.

"I'm glad I could help," I said, looking at the old man with a bit of concern; he looked worn out, but his eyes were still strong.

"From what Greagoir said, it seems that you came here seeking allies," the First Enchanter remarked, and I nodded, saying that this was true. "The least we can do is help you against the darkspawn – I would hate to survive this only to be overcome by the Blight. You have my word, as First Enchanter – the Circle will join the Grey Wardens in the fight," Irving promised.

"Irving, I have a request; I seek leave to follow the Grey Warden," Wynne piped up suddenly, and I glanced back at her with surprise.

"Wynne…we need you here. The Circle needs you," Irving argued, and Wynne crossed her arms, giving the First Enchanter a firm look.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Irving, but the Circle will do fine without me. The Circle has you," she replied. "This woman is brave and good, and capable of great things. If she will accept my help, I will help her accomplish her goals," she added, glancing back at me.

"I would be honored to have you join me, Wynne," I smiled faintly, and Irving sighed.

"You were never one to stay in the tower when there was adventure to be had elsewhere," Irving remarked with a chuckle, and Wynne looked back at him.

"Why stay when I can be of service elsewhere?" she reasoned, and the old man nodded.

"Then I give you leave to follow the Grey Warden, but know that you always have a place here," the First Enchanter said. "There is much to be done here, and I must go. You must forgive me for not being a proper host," the old man added.

"Ah, First Enchanter, a moment, please," I said quickly, and the man nodded, listening. "Can the Circle go to Redcliffe to save a possessed child?" I asked, and his eyes widened a fraction.

"The child is possessed? But…killing the demon would mean killing the… Unless you intend to enter the Fade? Yes…yes, it can be done with a group of mages…" he murmured, stroking his beard. "I shall gather what mages I can and we shall leave promptly. A life is at stake," he promised, and I thanked him.

"Well, we should head back to the inn for the night," I sighed as we left the tower, walking down the long path that led to the docks, where Carroll was sitting and absently looking around. The sun was setting in the distance, and I massaged my shoulders, the muscles aching from strain.

"It's been a long day. Rest…rest would be welcome," Wynne agreed, and I glanced over at her, slightly concerned.

"Are you all right?" I asked, and she nodded.

"Yes…yes, of course. I am just a little…weary. As you may have noticed, I'm no spring chicken," the elderly mage replied, and I grinned.

"No, you're a person," I teased, and she chuckled.

"Hah…very funny," she smiled. "In all honestly, I do not know how many years I have left in me; I have lived for such a long time. But there's always something else to do, and I have to keep going in order to do it. I think I will be glad when I am…done," she murmured, more to herself than to me. _Oh dear…_ I thought, trying not to panic at her words.

"I-I'm sure you'll be kicking around for years yet," I assured her, helping her into the boat as Carroll reluctantly agreed to take us back across.

"Oh, I don't know. I really don't," Wynne sighed, smiling faintly at my concern.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	22. Chapter 22: On the Road Again

Chapter 22

On the Road Again

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

We returned to the Spoiled Princess, Morrigan waiting for us as she sat by the fire, writing in her notebook. Jowan was still in his cat form, lounging on the other chair, but when he saw Wynne, his fur puffed up in fright, and he darted under a nearby table, watching us from under the tablecloth with wary eyes. "Ah, I suppose I should have expected you to pick up a new companion," Morrigan remarked, seeing Wynne. I rolled my eyes at the dark-haired woman, leaning over the back of the chair and handing her the thick black tome I had taken from Irving's office.

"This is what you were looking for, yes?" I asked, and she looked over the book with large eyes, examining the cover carefully.

"You found Flemeth's grimoire? When I spoke of it to you, I did not truly hope…" she murmured, her fingers running over the symbol of the leafless tree. "Ah, but this is a most fortuitous event! You have my thanks. I will begin study of the tome immediately," Morrigan said, grinning up at me. I had never seen her so genuinely happy, and I found myself smiling back at her.

"What do you hope to find within it?" I mused, and she looked down at the book eagerly.

"Secrets. My mother has many of them, and this tome represents the one time that they were able to get away from her," she explained. "I do not intend to squander this opportunity to learn more than Flemeth wished me to know. This should be…interesting," she breathed.

"Good luck with that, then," I smiled, leaving her to study the book. Olan was trotting around Wynne eagerly, excited about our new companion, and I smiled at the mabari, patting his head as he sat down. "This is Wynne, Olan," I introduced him, "be nice to her," I added, and the dog barked.

"You keep quite a few animals with you for all the traveling you do," Wynne remarked as she looked at the dog, and spotted Jowan under the table, who quickly ducked back out of sight.

"They keep the giant rats out of camp," I replied, kneeling and motioning for Jowan to come out. He walked over warily, looking up at Wynne with big, grey eyes as I let him climb onto my shoulder. "This is my cat…Levyn," I said, indicating Jowan, and I fought back a scowl as he dug his claws into my shoulder indignantly, letting out a low growl. _Beggars can't be choosers, and it's the first name that came to mind,_ I thought grumpily, lightly pinching the cat's scruff as I pretended to scratch his neck.

"So what are our plans now?" Alistair asked as we gathered, and I crossed my arms, leaning against a support beam. _Well, take a bath, first,_ I thought, noticing that the innkeeper was staring at me – the demon blood had dried by now, but I was still covered in it.

"Hmm…well, I'll trust the First Enchanter to deal with the situation back in Redcliffe, with Connor," I began, closing my eyes. "But…to save time in the long run, I think we should head to Orzammar. That way, we can just make a circuit around the lake – I don't want to double back, head to Redcliffe, and then have to turn around and go all the way _back_ around the lake to get to Orzammar," I explained, and the others nodded. I recalled that the southern road from Orzammar was more treacherous than following the north path around Lake Calenhad – the roads to the west were carved right out of the Frostbacks in places.

"Makes sense. And traveling through the Frostbacks now will be easier than in a few months' time, when winter is upon us," Wynne added. I noticed that she was still looking at Jowan, a hint of suspicion in her eyes. He tried to meow and look innocent, but she didn't seem to buy it.

"True. So I suggest we all get some rest – it'll take us a few weeks to get to Orzammar at least," I finished. As we split up, I motioned for Zevran to join me, indicating Jowan as he perched on my shoulder – the Elf, at least, regarded Jowan the most neutrally of our other male companions. "Can you let him stay in your room tonight? I'd rather put some distance between us and the Templars before Wynne recognizes him," I asked, and Zevran nodded.

"As you wish. Come, gatto," Zevran said, and Jowan gave him a withering look as he clambered onto the assassin's arm, digging his claws into the Elf's shoulder. "Do not make me carry you by the tail," Zevran threatened, and Jowan gave a small growl, the fur on his tail puffing out a bit.

oooo

After I washed up in the bath-house out back, I returned to my room, feeling exhausted after our ordeal in the tower. Olan trotted beside me, leaping onto my bed as soon as we entered. "Again?" I snorted, mussing the dog's ears as he barked. I sat down next to the mabari, wrapping my arms around the dog's neck and leaning against him tiredly, closing my eyes. "Olan…something happened to me in the tower," I murmured, and he perked his ears up, looking at me with bright, intelligent eyes. "I'm not sure what happened, but…I think Uldred _did_ something to me…"

I sighed, still troubled by what had happened. I couldn't remember much – only that I felt a strange energy thrumming through me. I stood, pacing around the room, biting my lip and glancing at Olan as he let out a soft whine, hopping off my bed and scratching at the door. I smiled sadly, letting him out and murmuring for him to get some sleep, listening as he trotted down the hall. _I hope he's not going to bother Morrigan again,_ I thought, massaging my temples – I really didn't need her screaming at me again for letting my dog run amok.

I walked over to the window, opening it and leaning against the wooden frame, closing my eyes and feeling the cool evening air blow through my hair, picking up the fiery strands and throwing them about my face, making the candle that stood on the nightstand flicker slightly. _Maybe it's nothing…_ I sighed, looking down at my saber; I had propped it up against the wall by my pack, and I made a face. _It was lighting itself on fire again, but it seemed like it was the most steady when we were trapped in the Fade,_ I recalled. I really needed to have a look at it one of these days – and maybe have one of our mages check it over for enchantments.

I chewed my lip anxiously, closing my eyes and letting out a long sigh, the beginning of a headache forming in the front of my skull. I gave a low groan, massaging my eyes. There was so much to do…and knowing our luck, there would be resistance and obstacles at every turn. I opened my eyes, glancing back towards the door as I heard a gentle knock.

"Come in," I called quietly, and I watched as Alistair walked into the room, his hair shining like gold in the faint candle light. He had a look of concern on his face as he watched me, closing the door gently behind him.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, walking over and joining me by the window. I gave him a small, reassuring smile.

"Yes. I'm just a bit worn out, that's all. I appreciate your concern," I replied, and he pursed his lips, not looking convinced. He gazed at me in silence for a few moments before turning slightly, pulling something out of his back pocket.

"Here, look at this. Do you know what this is?" Alistair asked; in his hand, he held a perfect rose in full bloom, the petals velvety and red in the warm candlelight. I looked at the flower for a moment, smirking up at him.

"Is that a trick question?" I asked, and he grinned, glad that I had cheered up a bit.

"Yes, absolutely. I'm trying to trick you. Is it working?" he asked. "Aw, I just about had you, didn't I?" Alistair teased.

"Oh, yes. You're a wily one," I replied.

" _Nefarious_ , even," Alistair added, giving me his best evil laugh, beating his chest as he started coughing half-way through it.

"Hm, don't overdo it, dear," I chuckled, crossing my arms and leaning my head against the window frame, looking up at him as he smiled gently at me.

"I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking, 'How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?'," Alistair explained, glancing down at the flower. "I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it…so I've had it ever since."

"And what do you intend to do with it?" I asked curiously as he looked back at me with a small smile.

"I thought that I might…give it to you, actually. In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you," he said softly, handing me the flower. I was touched that he would give me such a gift, but… _I…really don't know what to say,_ I thought. _No one's ever…courted me_. So I would hide behind humor until I could find the right words. I held the rose lightly in my fingers, bringing the flower to my lips and smirking at him.

"Feeling a little thorny, are we?" I grinned, and he laughed.

"Oh, _wow_. 'She'll never see through that,' I told myself. Boy was I wrong," he chuckled.

"Oh, relax. I happen to like it," I said, gently touching the velvet petals.

"I guess it's a bit silly, isn't it? I just thought…here I am doing all this complaining, and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself," Alistair sighed. "You've had none of the _good_ experience of being a Grey Warden since your Joining, not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death and fighting and tragedy. I thought maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this…darkness," Alistair added. He gingerly reached out, placing his hand on my cheek, his eyes soft as he looked at me.

I closed my eyes for a few moments, sighing as I leaned into his touch; he was always so gentle when he touched my face, and I smiled faintly as he slowly rubbed his thumb along my jaw. "So…are we married now?" I teased, and he chuckled, poking my nose with the tip of his finger.

"Ha! You won't land me that easily, woman! I know I'm quite the prize, after all – no need to start crying on me or anything," he grinned. "I guess it was, uh, just a stupid impulse," he added in a softer tone, his eyes anxious. "I don't know, was it the wrong one?" he asked, slightly nervous.

"Maybe not. I think it's cute," I replied, and Alistair snorted.

"Cute? _Cute?_ _Just_ what I was aiming for. Ow, you could just…stab me in the face first before you say something like that," he huffed, feigning anger. "I'm glad you like it, though," he added, his eyes softening. "Now…if we could move right on past this awkward, embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I'd appreciate it," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly. I smirked, pushing myself off the window frame and looking up at him.

"Sounds good. Off with the armor, then," I replied, and his neck and ears went red as I took a step closer, tapping a finger against his cuirass, moving upward until my fingers rested lightly on the edge of his mail hauberk, feeling the heat coming off of his throat as he swallowed.

"Bluff called! Damn! She saw right through me!" he said, laughing nervously.

"Why must it be a bluff?" I asked in a sultry voice, smiling charmingly up at him and fluttering my eyelashes.

"Well, it doesn't _have_ to be a bluff," Alistair replied, his tone lowering as he leaned over me, running the backs of his fingers lightly across my cheek and tucking a loose strand of hair over one of my ears. "Maybe when we're back at camp some night. You know. In a tent?" he suggested, and I nodded behind me.

"But there's a perfectly good bed right over there," I teased, taking a step closer and placing a hand on the center of his cuirass, feeling his heart pounding even through the layers of clothing and armor, "and Olan's not here to interrupt." Alistair looked behind me, eyes lingering on the bed; his gaze was suddenly distant, as if he were remembering something, and he turned red all the way to the tips of his ears.

"Uh…that's…that's true…" he remarked, swallowing nervously again as I grinned coquettishly at him. "I'll be…I'll be heading back to my room now. Until the blushing stops. Just to be, uh, safe. You know how it is," he stammered out, heading back to the hall and fumbling with the doorknob on his way out. I walked up behind him, startling him, and as he turned back to look at me, I stood on my toes and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Thank you for the gift, Alistair – I love it," I whispered. He grinned at me as his blush deepened, and he softly said goodnight as he managed to open the door. I chuckled quietly at his nervousness, my own cheeks flushing as I looked down at the rose, smiling and closing my eyes as I held the flower to my nose, taking in a deep breath. I blew out the candle, changing for bed and crawling under the blankets, placing the rose on the nightstand next to me. I looked at it, feeling warmth go through me, and I closed my eyes and smiled as my worries melted away.

oooo

We started early the next morning; I finished breakfast quickly so I could go out to the inn's yard and bring Dancia to the lake while the others packed their things, loading them into the cart. Jowan stuck to me like glue – he was on edge now that Wynne was coming with us, but I promised him that I wouldn't let anyone hurt him. "And if the Templars try anything, I can always invoke the Right of Conscription," I added, and he sighed.

"I don't know if that would help with the Wardens' current standing…although Greagoir and Irving have always had respect for your order," Jowan replied, his tail flicking back and forth.

"Uh, sorry about the name, by the way. It was the first thing that came to my mind," I apologized, and Jowan's whiskers twitched.

"Eh, it's fine. At least it doesn't sound _too_ similar to my name. I have no doubt that Wynne will find out eventually…but I hope that it's far from Kinloch Hold…and that she doesn't take it upon herself to finish the Templars' job," he added, and I sighed.

"I hope it doesn't come to that. If I have to, I'll send her back to the tower, though; I'm not going to let them hurt you," I promised, and Jowan relaxed slightly, a low purr rumbling in his throat. As Dancia drank from the lake, I glanced up; Sten had joined me, and was looking out over the water, back towards the tower.

"The Blight – how will you end it?" he asked, and I glanced up at the Qunari, raising an eyebrow at his sudden question.

"We have to fight the archdemon," I replied simply. He didn't seem impressed by my answer.

"Is that all? It is surrounded by an ocean of darkspawn. How will you reach it? If you reach it, how will you slay it?" he was firing the questions at me before I could answer. "You say you are a Grey Warden. I have heard stories of this order," he pressed, and I paused in stroking Dancia's shoulder, looking back at him oddly.

"What have you heard?" I asked, wondering what had brought on this sudden interrogation.

"Great strategists and peerless warriors – that is what we hear of the Wardens. So far I am not impressed," Sten replied, and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not here to impress anyone, Sten," I remarked.

"Evidently not. It remains only to see what you _are_ here for," the Qunari said, and I snorted, shaking my head as he returned to the wagon – I wasn't going to let his harsh words get to me again; he had a point – which I noted – but I wasn't going to let it bother me to the point of distraction, like last time. _What brought_ _ **that**_ _on?_ I wondered, patting Dancia's shoulder as the mare finished drinking, leading her back and hitching her to the cart.

I climbed into the driver's seat with Jowan on the bench next to me, Leliana sitting just behind me and leaning against the back of the seat. Morrigan sat towards the middle of the wagon, her eyes moving quickly over the strange language that her mother's grimoire was written in, completely engrossed in the ancient book, and Wynne sat in the back, her gaze traveling slowly as she examined each member of our group carefully, eyes lingering on the large, black cat that sat beside me, balancing on the back of the driver's seat.

I clicked my tongue, and Dancia started walking up the steep hill, Olan trotting alongside the large horse. "Aren't you chilly, Sten?" Wynne asked as Sten took his place behind the cart.

"Chilly? I don't know this word," Sten admitted.

"It's much warmer where you're from, isn't it? Don't you feel cold?" the elderly mage clarified, and Sten shrugged.

"I suppose," the Qunari replied.

"I don't imagine we can find a cloak in your size, can we? Hmmm…" Wynne murmured, crossing her arms and looking carefully at Sten.

"What?" Sten asked, and Wynne shook her head.

"Nothing. Nothing, don't mind me. Now, I wonder where I could get a skein of good wool yarn…" the old woman mused.

We headed out onto the main road, the beaten dirt path winding its way around the lake, and I glanced back at Leliana as she idly plucked at her lute, humming the tune faintly to herself. "You know, Leliana," I began, and she looked up at the mention of her name, "I heard that in Orlais, minstrels are often spies."

"Where did you hear this?" she asked, her tone amused. I swore that I saw a hint of wariness in her eyes for a fraction of a second, but perhaps I was imagining things.

"My mother told me that, once," I replied. "Said she was even _rescued_ by one – my mother said she was a young woman with hair like wildfire," I recalled, and Leliana's eyes widened for a moment before she composed herself.

"And you believed her? Don't you think she might have been teasing you?" Leliana giggled, and I shrugged, smiling.

"Hah, maybe. She _was_ the type to do that," I admitted.

"Not all minstrels are spies, most are just singers and storytellers. But some of them are…are what we call bards," Leliana explained.

"What's the difference?" I wondered. I had always thought the words meant the same thing.

"Many use the two words 'minstrel' and 'bard' interchangeably, but to do so in Orlais would cause misunderstanding. Bards are minstrels, and more – spies, as you say," Leliana clarified, and I nodded. "Some say there is a bard order, but I don't think this is true. Many bards work alone, or in small groups, doing the bidding of a patron who pays for their services. If there is an organization behind it all, no one knows who they are," she added, and I cocked my head.

"Patron? What sort of patron?" I asked.

"Nobles, mostly," she replied with a shrug, pausing for a few moments and pursing her lips as she retuned a string on her lute. "In Orlais there is much rivalry amongst the high-born. They fight over land, influence and the favor of the empress. But they cannot do this openly, because it is impolite, and in public they wear smiling faces and pretend to be civil," she continued. "In secret they plot and scheme to destroy each other. It is a game completely meaningless to anyone but its players."

"Hmm…you seem to know quite a bit about these bards," I remarked with a smirk, giving her a sidelong glance.

"And I should, shouldn't I, after having spent most of my adult life as one. You've guessed as much, I'm sure," Leliana sighed. "But does it really matter what I was? What's past is past," she added, and I nodded.

"I can respect that," I said, and she smiled faintly. "But…why were you living as a cloistered sister in rural Ferelden?" I added, still a bit curious.

"I…found myself in Ferelden and sheltered from bad weather in the Chantry. And when the storm passed I just…did not want to leave. I like to say the Maker brought me here," she said with finality, and I nodded, understanding that she didn't want to speak about this anymore.

oooo

That evening, after dinner, I sat a short ways from the fire, keeping first watch. I glanced back as Zevran walked over, joining me on the fallen log where I sat, looking out over the dark lake, the water calm in the still evening air. A wolf howled in the distance, and I shifted my blade a little closer to me, fingering the handle. "Zevran?" I asked quietly, propping my chin on my knee as I watched the scenery, and the Elf nodded, listening. "Do you actually enjoy being an assassin?"

He seemed amused by my question, smiling faintly at my curiosity. "And why not? There are many things to enjoy about being a Crow in Antiva," he replied. "You are respected. You are feared. The authorities go out of their way to overlook your trespasses. Even the rewards are nothing to turn your nose up at," he explained. "As for the killing part, well…some people simply need assassinating. Or do you disagree?" he glanced at me, and I snorted.

"Oh, no, you're right. Some people need to die," I agreed, and he smirked, seeing the hint of fire in my eyes as I thought of Loghain, and of Vaughan. Especially of Vaughan.

"Ah, the look of a troubled past," he observed, and I shrugged.

"Welcome to the club," I replied sarcastically.

"Perhaps…that is the reason we met on the road?" he added, and I snorted softly – he was really quite curious about me, I supposed…although to be fair, _I_ was rather nosy myself.

"Aye. People don't take kindly to being killed," I said, and he chuckled, admitting that it was true.

"I often find myself the instrument of fate, ending these lives for one necessity or another. I console myself with the notion that most of them had it coming," Zevran continued. "As far as enjoying the act of killing itself…why not? There is a certain artistry to the deed, the pleasure of sinking your blade into their flesh and knowing that their life is in your hands," he added, and I bit my lip.

"I…know what you mean," I murmured, slightly disturbed at admitting it. Killing came so easily…and it scared me how much I actually enjoyed it.

"There are many things I did not enjoy about being a Crow, of course. Having no choice, being treated as an expendable commodity, the rules…oh so many rules!" Zevran added, and I glanced back at him with a half-smile. "But simply being an assassin? I like it just fine. I will continue to do it, if I can, even if I am not a Crow. Honestly, could you picture me doing something else?" he asked with a chuckle, and I shrugged.

"Why not? You can do whatever you like," I argued, and he smiled a bit at my words.

"Whereas I am content merely doing what I happen to be good at. It's a talent that not many come by. Honestly, I don't see why I need not pursue it," he replied. "Of course…all these thoughts are moot. Chances are still good that you and I will perish, eaten by darkspawn or slain by the Crows at some point – very gruesomely, I imagine. But it is pleasant enough to chat about," he sighed.

"So what does it take to become an assassin, exactly?" I mused, and Zevran shrugged, looking up into the night sky and watching as a few thin clouds drifted by. He smirked, suddenly, turning his burning eyes back on me.

"Ah, looking for a few pointers, my dear?" he teased, and I smiled slightly.

"…maybe," I admitted, "but I'd need to know what's involved, first," I added, and his smile widened.

"Well, the _Crows_ would have you believe that it is an involved process that takes years of training, the sort that tests both your resolve and your endurance," he explained. "Survive that process and maybe – just _maybe_ – you're good enough to start being considered one of them," he added, and my thoughts flashed back to his dream in the Fade – enduring torture had been one of the Crows' tests, I supposed. "But quite frankly, the truth is that all it requires is a desire to kill people for a living," Zevran admitted with a shrug. "It's surprising how well one can do in such a field."

"You did quite well, no doubt," I remarked, and Zevran glanced back at me.

"Within the Crows, I did. But it has been something the Crows have devoted a great deal of time to perfecting," he continued. "An assassin simply specializes in striking from stealth…and in maximizing that first attack to be as lethal as possible. Debilitating your foe, either by poison or by crippling their limbs, makes any follow-up combat you need to engage in that much simpler," Zevran explained, and I nodded.

"That sounds like it could be useful," I remarked, a hint of interest in my eyes. _Maybe I can ask him to teach me a thing or two, if he's of a mind…_ I thought, and Zevran smiled.

"See? Getting paid for the act is beside the point. An assassin is more a tactical choice than a lifestyle," he replied. "Of course, the _Crows_ like to pretend that their abilities are trade secrets, shrouded in shadows and wrapped in a blanket of mystery. So let's just keep this between you and me, shall we, hmm?" he added with a wink.

"Of course," I said. I glanced up as I thought I heard something, and Zevran looked at me, following my gaze as I stood, walking towards the nearby trees, holding my knife at the ready.

"Do you hear something?" he asked softly, and I narrowed my eyes.

"I…swear I saw something moving in–" I was cut off as something barreled into me, and I let out a yelp of surprise, rolling over in the grass as I fell. Someone was clinging to me, pinning me down, and I gasped as I tried to push them off.

"Adeline!" Zevran yelled, running towards me.

"Wait, stop," I said, and Zevran paused, looking at me oddly. I was lying in the grass with a tall, honey-haired Elf woman sitting on my stomach, pinning my hands above my head. "You know, normal people say 'hello' as a greeting, Neria," I remarked, and she laughed.

"Well, I'm hardly normal," the woman replied, grinning at me. She glanced up as the others gathered about, having heard the commotion, and she looked at the weapons in their hands. "Ooh, scary bunch you've got here, lethallan," she added, and I snorted, shoving the girl off. She rolled over, still grinning, and I stood, brushing grass and dirt from my back.

"I take it you know each other?" Alistair remarked, sheathing his sword as he saw there was no danger.

"Uh, yeah. I suppose I should introduce her," I sighed, helping Neria to her feet. "This is Neria Mahariel, a friend of mine from Denerim," I said, introducing the girl.

"A pleasure," Neria smiled charmingly.

"I was not aware such loveliness existed amongst adventurers, surely," Zevran remarked, smiling slightly at the girl, and she smiled back, her blue eyes flashing as she looked him over.

"Oh, is this one of the strange Antivans you wrote to Shianni about?" Neria asked, and I rolled my eyes. Once introductions were made, I brought Neria to the side so that we could speak on our own. I crossed my arms, looking her up at down as she continued to smile.

"Why are you grinning like that?" I asked, and she shrugged.

"Other than finding out that you survived Ostagar, and that I just happened to run into you?" she teased, and I snorted.

"Wait, what are you doing here anyway?" I asked.

"I was going to look for you in Orzammar, actually," she replied. "I learned that you were a Grey Warden after the army fell, though, and I was already on my way to Orzammar – I saw some wanted posters with your name on them in a nearby village, and drew my own conclusions," she explained. "It's good to see you're still in one piece," she sighed, her eyes warm as she suddenly threw her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug.

"Owowow!" I cringed as she picked me up off the ground. "Maker's _breath_ put me _down!_ You'll break my back!" I laughed at the incorrigible woman, and she grinned, putting me down and mussing my hair. "It's good to see you too Neria," I added with a smile. We joined some of the others around the campfire, and I noticed Neria's eyes moving slowly over each of them, observing them intently; it was the hunter in her, taking in every detail of her surroundings.

"So lethallan, tell me what you've been doing all this time; all we heard in Denerim was that the Grey Wardens were declared traitors to the Crown," Neria remarked, and I scoffed. "Of course, it doesn't seem like everyone in Fereldan believes it," she added.

"Well, it's good to know not _everyone_ wants us dead," I snorted, leaning back a bit and looking at Neria. "You look well," I added, and Neria chuckled. Olan suddenly ran over to her, letting out excited yips and nuzzling against her side. The Elf simply laughed, grabbing either side of his face and mushing his jowls, grinning and telling him he was a handsome boy.

"That's more than you can say about yourself, lethallan; you're skin and bones," Neria replied as Olan settled down, and I shrugged. I had seen myself in a mirror, back at the Spoiled Princess, and almost didn't recognize myself. My eyes had become hard, with dark circles underneath, and I had no trace of baby-fat on my face. It made me look older, more mature, but also very tired and on-edge; my resting-face was now a slight frown, and my hands twitched when I didn't have my weapons on me.

"I blame the Blight – it's aged me ten years," I answered, managing a small, crooked smile, and Neria leaned against me, patting my shoulder sympathetically as I told her everything that had happened since Ostagar.

oooo

The next few days were relatively peaceful as we traveled around Lake Calenhad. Neria had decided that she was going to come with us; I doubted that she could have been talked out of it. Morrigan was immersed in researching her mother's grimoire, writing down her own notes in the smaller notebook she kept with her – I didn't think she even noticed the new member of our group. Leliana seemed slightly more cheerful, now that we knew she was a bard – I told her that it really didn't make any difference in my opinion of her, and she seemed heartened by that, glad that I still trusted her.

"We all have our secrets, Leliana," I reasoned, and she smiled.

"True. Thank you for understanding," she replied.

I listened as Zevran and Neria chatted nearby, the two Elves walking along the wagon to my left – they really seemed to hit it off. "You are Dalish, yes?" Zevran asked, and Neria glanced at him, nodding slightly.

"That I am," she replied, and he looked at her face closely, as if studying her, before his eyes began to move further over her body. Neria didn't mind at all – she had always been very comfortable with her body – and was now smiling slightly under Zevran's gaze. In fact, she was ogling him as well, her eyes lingering on the assassin's lightly muscled arms, and the graceful tattoo across his cheek. I had to bite back a snicker, politely averting my eyes.

"…yet you do not have tattoos," Zevran remarked, once his eyes returned to her face, and I raised an eyebrow.

"The Dalish have tattoos?" I asked curiously – Neria had never said anything to indicate that this was so; she rarely spoke of her clan in the time that I knew her.

"We call it Vallaslin – blood writing. It's a rite of passage that all adult Dalish undergo, usually when they turn eighteen," Neria explained, and I cocked my head.

"But you're…twenty-three," I replied, and she nodded.

"I never said I _didn't_ have one," she said, "it's just…not on my face," she added. She spoke no further about it, and I shrugged, letting the pair of Elves return to their chatter as Neria began asking Zevran about Antiva.

I glanced over at Alistair, who was walking a little ways to might right, and he caught my look, smiling as he sensed a question on my mind. "Something you need, my dear?" he asked, and I shrugged. I had been thinking about it since we left the tower, and I pursed my lips.

"I was wondering…what can a Templar do, exactly?" I questioned, and Alistair looked thoughtful for a moment; maybe he was wondering where the sudden curiosity had come from.

"Essentially they're trained to fight. The Chantry would tell you that the Templars exist simply to defend, but don't let them fool you. They're an army," he replied. "The other main purpose for a Templar is, of course, to hunt mages. To that end, we train in talents that drain mana and disrupt spells," he added, and I nodded – I remembered seeing him use such abilities when we fought darkspawn emissaries, or other enemy spell casters.

"So Templars…use magic themselves?" I mused, and he shrugged.

"You could call it that, sure," he said. "The _Chantry_ doesn't look on it the same way, however, since really our talents only work on mages. Against a regular person, I'm just a guy in a metal suit," he added.

"Have you…hunted any mages before?" I asked, and Alistair's eyes darkened a bit. I felt Jowan tense in the seat next to me, and Alistair let out a soft sigh.

"No. I never actually became a full Templar; the Chantry doesn't send trainees to hunt apostates, and Duncan recruited me before I took my vows," Alistair explained. "I was only present during one Harrowing – that was all I needed, too. I don't know how anyone could get through that," he shuddered slightly at the memory, and I saw a hint of surprise in Jowan's eyes; maybe he thought that Templars _liked_ hunting mages? "The girl they tested…she had a demon put inside her, to see if she could resist. And she couldn't. We had to…end it quickly," Alistair continued, his voice low. "I have to say I didn't have much interest in becoming a Templar after that."

"So…if your skills aren't magic," I cocked my head, "doesn't that mean others could learn the same talents?"

Alistair pursed his lips, looking thoughtful again. "Perhaps, but there usually isn't much of an opportunity," he began. "The Chantry keeps a close reign on its Templars. We are given lyrium to help develop our magical talents, you see…which means we become addicted. And since the Chantry controls the lyrium trade with the Dwarves…well, I'm sure you can put two and two together," he added, and I stared at him in shock.

"That…that's horrible! How could they do that?" I exclaimed, and Alistair seemed surprised by my anger.

"Well, they do it. And they feel perfectly justified," he replied. "You don't _need_ lyrium in order to learn the Templar talents. Lyrium just makes Templars' talents more effective. Or so I was told – maybe it doesn't even do that," Alistair continued. "The Chantry usually doesn't let their Templars get away, either, so they can spread their secrets. I'm a bit of an exception. Lucky me," he added wryly.

"That sounds terrible… I'm sorry for bringing it up," I apologized, and he snorted.

"It's not _your_ fault," he replied. "And…now I get to ask _you_ a question – it's only fair," he added with a smirk, and I chuckled.

"Oh? Ask away, then," I smiled, and he thought for a moment.

"Well…I remember that Daveth once told me you could run across a laundry line like it was the Imperial Highway. Is that true?" he asked, and I snorted.

"He always liked to exaggerate…although I suppose that's true enough," I replied. "A circus came to Denerim when I was little, and Shianni, Soris and I snuck in to watch – my mother might have taught me all she knew of combat, but my fighting style comes from mimicking circus acts, among other things," I explained, and he nodded, seeming to think about it.

"Is that why you're so showy when you fight?" he teased, and I smirked.

"Being a bit of an acrobat makes a good distraction, doesn't it?" I countered, and he laughed at my reasoning, supposing it to be true.

oOo

That evening, Neria sat by the fire, observing Adeline's group with keen eyes. A Qunari warrior, an Elf rogue, four humans – a warrior, rogue, and two mages – a mabari war hound, and… _That's not a cat,_ Neria thought, watching Levyn as he perched on a tree stump nearby, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth as he watched Adeline and Alistair sparring. He didn't act much like a cat, and didn't _smell_ like a cat at all.

Neria's focus was taken away from the 'cat' as she heard a familiar sound – Adeline's laughter. She hadn't heard it in so long; she didn't even realize how much she had missed it. The city Elf was her dearest friend – a sister, almost – and hearing her laughter brought a smile to Neria's face. What surprised Neria was that it was a _human_ – Alistair – who actually got her to laugh and smile the most; she thought that after what had happened to her, Adeline would be far warier of the shemlen…but it seemed that she was quite friendly with those in her group.

As Neria watched, Adeline managed to disarm Alistair, but was pinned to a tree by his shield a moment later, unable to move her arms. She said something – Neria was too far away to hear – and both started laughing again. The Dalish Elf observed her friend carefully as she and Alistair got back into position, starting a new match; Neria was surprised at their stamina – neither looked very tired – but supposed it was a Grey Warden thing.

She noticed the way that Adeline and Alistair looked at one another, and she chuckled quietly to herself, shaking her head. Zevran noticed her movements – he had been watching the Elf woman intently since she had joined them – and followed her gaze, smiling slightly as well. "Never thought I'd see Adeline go for a human," she mused as Zevran joined her by the fire.

"Oh? Does this have to do with our dear Warden's mysterious past?" he joked, and Neria gave him a sidelong glance.

"Maybe. It's not my place to tell," she replied simply. "But I can see why she likes him. He seems like a good sort; those two make a cute match," she added, and Zevran chuckled.

"They do fit rather well, don't they?" he remarked, watching them spar. Adeline moved like lightning, dancing just out of sword-range, but while she was lighter and faster, Alistair's movements were more deliberate and calculating – now that Zevran knew them better, he realized that Alistair was far more intelligent than he let on…at least, most times.

When the assassin had been given his assignment by Loghain's right hand man, Rendon Howe, he had been told that the priority target was Adeline – that she would cause the most trouble should she begin amassing an army against the Regent. Zevran had also been told of Alistair's birthright – that he was a royal bastard; the Elf could see how this would be trouble. In Antiva, royal bastards could – and often did – tear the country apart in wars over the throne; he wasn't sure how much power a Fereldan royal bastard would have, but one allied with a Grey Warden gathering an army – and out for revenge, as well – would certainly cause problems down the line.

Zevran wondered if Alistair knew how much of a threat he could be, if he played his cards right. He wondered if Adeline even knew about Alistair's parentage; neither had ever brought it up before, but he didn't think that Alistair would keep something so important from her. Zevran turned his gaze back on Neria, finding her watching him. Her eyes were striking blue, and her hair shone like polished bronze in the firelight at her back.

"So you are a Crow, Zevran?" she asked, her eyes curious, and Zevran nodded slightly, captivated by her intense gaze – it was like looking into the eyes of a predator. Zevran had never been hunted before, but found the prospect…thrilling. "My clan has been through Antiva a few times, although not very close to the cities. It is a beautiful country, from what I have seen," she complimented, and Zevran smiled slightly at her words.

"It is," he replied, his eyes clouding over with nostalgia. "The days and nights were warm – it rained often, but the flowers were always in bloom," he almost sighed, and Neria's eyes moved slowly over his face. His features were vaguely Dalish – high cheekbones, light but strong build; one would only notice if they knew what to look for. She refrained from asking about this – she didn't know the man well enough to ask such personal questions.

As the two fell into companionable silence, Neria's attention returned to Levyn. He had abandoned his perch on the tree stump, and was sitting by the witch, Morrigan, at her own small encampment. Neria thought it odd that she chose to remain separate from the others, but in the short time that she had been with the group, she had noticed Morrigan's rather sharp personality. "That cat," Neria began softly, so that only Zevran could hear. He glanced up at her words, following her gaze towards Morrigan's camp, spotting the cat. "He's not actually a cat, yes?"

"You are correct, my dear," the assassin replied, and Neria looked at him questioningly, hoping for an explanation. "He is a mage, but for the moment, he is assuming an animal form. He fears our lovely healer, Wynne," he explained, and Neria raised an eyebrow.

"Is he an apostate or something? _Morrigan's_ an apostate, and doesn't seem to be afraid of Wynne. And why Wynne, and not Alistair? Isn't he a Templar?" Zevran chuckled slightly at all of her questions – he very much liked the spark of curiosity that lit up her eyes.

"His name is Jowan. However, he has only shared much of his story with Adeline – from what I have gathered, he is a blood mage who escaped from the Circle of Magi, and fears that Wynne will try to 'bring him to justice', if you will," Zevran answered. "Alistair will not act against Adeline unless Jowan threatens her safety, which, honestly, I don't think will ever happen – the man owes her his life," he explained. He was quiet for a few moments, his eyes moving quickly over each member of the group as he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Come to think of it…I believe most of us here do," he added, and Neria smiled.

"That girl," she laughed, shaking her head helplessly. "She'd give a beggar her last scrap of bread if she were starving to death." Zevran smiled gently as he watched Adeline and Alistair finish their sparring match, ending in a draw; he knew exactly what Neria meant.

oOo

Wynne sat up by the driver's seat the next morning, and she glanced at me curiously as I yawned quietly, leaning back against the seat, and still a bit groggy. I had been having more nightmares of the archdemon the closer we got to Orzammar, and I really hoped that I hadn't woken everyone with my screaming again; according to Alistair, I had only woken the entire camp _once_ last week – a new record. Instead of screaming, I would wake up shaking and sweating, startling Olan, but otherwise remaining silent – I hoped this meant that most of the violent reactions were passing, and the others would get a decent night's rest for once.

"So, tell me, how did you become a Grey Warden?" Wynne asked me, and I looked at her, shrugging.

"Mmm…not much to tell, really," I replied. "Duncan recruited me in Orzammar," I explained.

"Orzammar?" the old woman echoed curiously, and I scratched behind one of my ears.

"Long story. The short version – I escaped from a prison in Denerim and fled to Orzammar," I added, and she pursed her lips, looking intrigued.

"Ah, I see. Do you mind if I ask what you did?" Wynne prodded, and I was quiet for a few moments, biting my lip.

"It's…uh…not pleasant," I warned her. I was also acutely aware of the others listening, despite their attempts to look preoccupied. _We're all so nosy,_ I thought with chagrin, returning my attention to Wynne.

"I can handle it," Wynne replied, and I sighed, supposing it was true, after what we had seen back in the tower.

"The Arl of Denerim's son kidnapped me and a few girls from the Alienage. He was going to…rape us. So I killed him," I explained quickly, not wanting to linger on the topic; it was harder for me to keep my mask on – the Sloth demon's nightmare had dragged the memory to the fore of my mind, and I was sure that I wasn't able to keep all of my anxiety hidden. Neria glanced over, seeing the subtle pain in my eyes, and she pursed her lips slightly.

"Oh, I…I'm sorry. I should not have brought it up. It must be an unhappy memory," Wynne apologized, and I snorted, not liking the pitying look she was giving me.

"Bastard deserved it. I'd kill him again if I could," I muttered, my eyes hard as I glared at the road ahead. My lips twitched as I fought back a smirk; it was bad enough that I enjoyed killing _during_ the act – now just thinking of it got me excited?

"You say that with such cold satisfaction that it frightens me…but I can see no fault in your actions; I would have done the same," Wynne remarked, and I glanced back at her with surprise, as did Jowan. "It sickens and saddens me to hear what men in power inflict on those who they ought to serve and protect. I have heard stories that some Templars who hunt maleficarum do not end the hunt with a clean death," at these words, Jowan's ears flattened against his skull, and his fur bristled slightly. "That they subject the victim to countless…abuses and indignities before they finish it. But this is just a rumor," Wynne sighed. "Regardless of what happened in your past, I am glad you found a place with the Wardens, as I'm sure you are too," she added gently.

"I just…hope that I can show the strength Duncan saw in me," I replied with a soft sigh, suddenly feeling tired at the thought of the older Grey Warden, and the task that lay before me. _Us,_ I reminded myself as I thought of Alistair.

"Sometimes it gives me comfort to think that everything will end up the way it's supposed to, that it will be all right. You were chosen; you survived when others did not. Perhaps it was meant to be," Wynne reasoned, and I smiled a bit, gladdened by her words.

"Well now, Wynne," I said after a little while, and she glanced back at me, "how did you become a mage?"

"People don't become mages, they are born mages – the talent just surfaces later," she corrected me, and I shrugged. "But you are asking how I ended up at the Circle?" she asked, and I nodded. "I was brought there by the Templars, just like many of the other apprentices. I don't remember very much; I was very young then," she answered.

"How did they know you were a mage?" I asked.

"I set a boy on fire," she replied, completely serious. I stared at her for a second before bursting out laughing.

"And I bet he deserved it, too," I chuckled, and Wynne smiled slightly.

"Oh, yes, he did," she replied. "He was the eldest son of the woman who took me in; I don't think he ever liked me. I didn't have a family…I never knew my real parents. My earliest memory was of hiding in a hay loft on a farm, trying to keep warm," Wynne recalled. "I was found, and the farmer's wife was kind enough not to send me away. But they had children of their own and I was never made to feel welcome. The eldest son was the worst – he was always calling me a 'stray', and throwing anything he could get his hands on at me," she added, crossing her arms at the memory, a small smile playing on her lips at the next part. "And I don't know how it happened, but one day, he just found his hair on fire. Fortunately, there was a large trough nearby."

"Serves him right," I said.

"He ran screaming, dripping head and all, to his mother. I was shut up in the barn, with a bowl of water and a crust of hard bread. The Templars arrived several mornings later," Wynne sighed.

"What a terrible experience for a child," I murmured, imagining the fear and uncertainty she must have felt after that had happened.

"The barn kept me safe from the village children and the stones they would hurl at me. I was afraid, yes, but it could have been much worse," Wynne replied with a small shrug.

"How did the Templars treat you?" I asked softly; I doubted that they'd be amused, hearing about a child being lit on fire.

"One of them ignored me, but the other was kind to me. He gave me sweets and even sat me on his shoulders once, when I wanted to look over a high wall that ran along the road," Wynne replied. "I'll never forget the moment the Templars led me into the entrance hall of the tower. I had never seen anything so grand in my life. I stopped being afraid then; I knew I was…home," Wynne said, her eyes distant at the memory, nostalgia in her tone. "Well, that's about all there is to my tale. That's how I came to the Circle," she finished, and I smiled.

oOo

"So Adeline," Leliana said one evening, and Adeline glanced up from where she was sitting, polishing her saber.

"Hmm?" the Elf said, nodding to Leliana as she sat down. Jowan lay nearby with his paws curled under him, resting by the fire and purring faintly. Alistair was keeping watch on one side of the camp, and Morrigan at the other, and Sten sat across the fire from the two girls, his eyes closed in deep thought. Neria had gone hunting with Olan, and wouldn't be back for another few hours at least.

"What is Orzammar like?" the bard continued, and Adeline thought for a moment.

"Well…it's a giant _cave_ ," she said, and Leliana laughed at the odd note in her tone.

"You don't like caves?" Leliana guessed, and Adeline shrugged.

"I got used to it after a while. It's… a bit difficult to describe to someone who's never been there, but I can say that it's like no place I'd ever seen before. The main cavern is gigantic, and the city is carved right out of the stone, lining up the side of the cave on thick rock shelves in layers. Streams of molten rock fall from the ceiling of the cave like giant, bright pillars, and below the city is a sea of fire. And the whole place is warm and has an orange glow about it," Adeline described, and Leliana listened intently. "Uh, sorry if it's not a very good description," she added, and Leliana shook her head.

"No, I've already made a picture of it in my head," the woman replied, smiling as she closed her eyes, imagining Orzammar. She also thought of the small, burrowing, pig-like creatures that lived underground, in the tunnels. She couldn't remember the name, but she recalled seeing one in the Denerim market once, and had always wanted one as a pet afterwards.

The two were quiet for a while, Adeline returning to polishing her blade, inspecting the runes along its length intently, as if staring at them would reveal a hidden meaning. Leliana glanced to the side, spotting Wynn approaching Zevran, who was practicing his knife-throwing, targeting a small knot of wood that stuck out from the side of a tree.

"You must know that murder is wrong, I assume," Wynne began suddenly, and Zevran paused mid-throw, twirling the throwing knife around a finger and glancing back at the woman, pointing towards himself with the tip of the blade.

"I'm sorry…are you speaking to me?" he asked, slightly puzzled by her words.

"That is why you wish to leave your Crows. A crisis of conscience," Wynne concluded, and Zevran raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, that is exactly it," he agreed, and Wynne couldn't help but catch the small, sarcastic note in the Elf's voice as he went back to practicing.

"Joke if you wish, but I have the feeling that deep down, you regret the life you have lived," Wynne insisted, and Zevran smirked as he stopped again, twirling the knife idly as he glanced back at the older woman.

"It's true. I regret it all," he said, not sounding regretful in the slightest.

"Must you be such a child? Are you incapable of a single, serious conversation?" Wynne asked, growing impatient.

"I know. I am terrible and it makes me sad. May I rest my head in your bosom? I wish to cry," Zevran said melodramatically, and Wynne narrowed her eyes at the assassin.

"You can cry well away from my bosom, I'm certain," the woman huffed, crossing her arms.

"Did I tell you I was an orphan? I never knew my mother," Zevran added, his voice tearful as he looked at Wynne with big eyes…or at her bosom, rather.

"Are you willing to speak seriously?" Wynne insisted, and Zevran smirked.

"Of your bosom? As you wish," the incorrigible Elf replied smoothly, continuing to stare shamelessly at said bosom, making Wynne immensely uncomfortable.

"No, I do not wish to speak of my _bosom_ ," Wynne retorted, trying to be patient.

"But it is a marvelous bosom. I have seen women half your age who have not held up half so well. Perhaps it is a _magical_ bosom?" Zevran suggested, and Leliana and Adeline glanced at each other, trying not to snicker at Wynne's withering glare. Jowan was silent, his eyes closed, but his whiskers twitched at Zevran's words as he stifled a laugh.

"Stop…talking about my bosom," Wynne said, and Zevran's grin widened.

"But I thought you wished to speak seriously?" he replied innocently.

"I do. I thought, however foolishly, that you might be willing to speak of your past," Wynne sighed, shaking her head at the man.

"We could do that. There have been many bosoms in my past, though only few as fine as yours," Zevran recalled, stroking his chin and narrowing his eyes as he thought about it.

"Enough. I am ending this conversation," Wynne muttered with an exasperated wave of her hand, walking over and joining Adeline and Leliana by the fire. Leliana quickly began tuning her lute strings, and Adeline hurriedly went back to polishing her blade, pretending they hadn't been blatantly eavesdropping. Wynne tried not to roll her eyes at the girls as she sat down, rubbing her hands as she held them nearer to the campfire. The cold nights in the mountains crept up on her, even though it was still summer, and Wynne sighed slightly, feeling her age.

She looked down at the large black cat that lay by the fire. 'Levyn' Adeline had called him; Wynne had heard the tiniest hesitation in the Elf's voice when she said the name, and the cat had seemed…angry, when she had spoken. _He is intelligent,_ Wynne concluded – she had begun to wonder what Adeline was hiding from her, but only one explanation made sense; the 'cat' was in fact a shapechanger – Wynne had seen the apostate girl, Morrigan use magic like that to become an animal – and that perhaps he was someone that Wynne would find dangerous…or at least Adeline seemed to think so.

"You know, Wynne," Leliana began, and Wynne glanced over at the girl as her thoughts were interrupted, "you remind me of Lady Cecilie."

"Who?" Wynne asked curiously.

"She was an Orlesian lady," Leliana explained. "My mother served her until she died, and Lady Cecilie let me stay, instead of turning me out on the street. You are like her in some ways. You have the same poise, the same air of nobility," Leliana observed, and Wynne smiled slightly.

"Oh, child, I am hardly noble," the old woman replied, although she was a bit flattered by the comparison.

"I learned that nobility isn't just something you are born with. I have met nobles who were petty and mean – complete degenerates," Leliana continued, unperturbed. "Then there are people with a certain dignity and grace. It draws you to them, no matter who you are, or who they are. I think the lowest peasant can have the noblest spirit and it will always shine through. It is this nobility of spirit that you share with Cecilie."

"Why…thank you, Leliana. It is very kind of you to say that," Wynne said, touched by the girl's kind words.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Twenty-two chapters, and someone _finally_ decides to show her face.

Neria Mahariel is a warrior, focusing mainly on ranged attacks, and wears light armor. She uses a dar'misaan for close range, and tends to try and balance between melee and ranged based on the rest of the party.


	23. Chapter 23: Orzammar

Chapter 23

Orzammar

Author's notes:

Brace yourselves – Orzammar is a long ride. On a side note, Ashes to Ashes has reached over 500 views~ Thank you all so much for taking time to look at my story. It really means a lot to me, and I hope you've all been enjoying it so far.

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

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After two weeks of traveling, we finally reached Orzammar, arriving in the evening and camping with a group of surface Dwarves who had set up stalls in a large, open area, paved with stones to make the shape of a circle. By this point Wynne had learned the truth about Jowan; I was actually surprised we had managed to keep the secret for so long.

Wynne had caught him practicing some spells with me watching by a stream near camp one evening, when we thought everyone was asleep. Wynne disapproved of my decision to keep a blood mage in my company, but I told her that he wasn't a danger to us, and that he had never killed anyone using blood magic. "But he attacked Templars in the Circle," Wynne had argued, glancing at Jowan, who looked very uncomfortable.

"From what I understand, the Templars forced his hand," I replied, stepping protectively in front of him. When Wynne had seen that I wasn't going to do anything about Jowan, she scowled at me – in a very schoolmistressy manner – but had ultimately relented.

The next morning – after dealing with a group of bounty hunters that came after us – we decided to ask around for any news before entering the city itself. "Oh…you wish to talk to _me?_ Truly, it's a courtesy for one so…well-armed to notice a lowly merchant," a balding Dwarf with a short beard stammered out in greeting as I approached his stall.

"Stone-met," I remembered hearing the greeting from my stay in the city, browsing the selection of wares in his stall. "Surface born?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Yes, like my father. _Someone_ has to live on the surface, or trade with other races could dry up. We surfacers are Orzammar's lifeline, even if we're denied a caste," he sighed, leaning against the stone table, looking up at me. "The Assembly says we've turned our back on the Stone, but they still use the goods we bring. Hypocrites," he muttered the last part darkly, shaking his head. "Maybe it'll change by the time my children are grown," he added absently.

"So how often do you restock in Orzammar?" I asked, curious.

"Twice a year; usually, it takes my caravan five months to do a full pass through Ferelden. In the city, I am confined to a trade stall in the commons, but I see enough; it is very…closed in," he explained, and I raised an eyebrow. _A Dwarf…with claustrophobia?_ "My grandfather says I've lost my stone sense. I was born topside; I don't remember having it," he added.

"So ser…" I began, frowning that I didn't know his name.

"You may call me Ahren, my lady," he introduced himself.

"Adeline," I replied, shaking his hand. "Ahren, have you heard of a man named Faryn, hereabouts? I'm looking for him," I asked, and he nodded, indicating someone over my shoulder.

"Squirrely, secretive man. He's awfully suspicious looking," Ahren replied. Some of the others returned from gathering news, and I glanced around, nodding towards the gates

"So has something happened out here? All the top-siders look worried," I asked Ahren, hearing shouts further up, by the grand metal and stone gates that led to Orzammar.

"Oh, some troublemakers sent by the human's new king," he replied with a snort. "The city's been closed off for a while now, though we surface Dwarves haven't been told why," Ahren explained, and I nodded, thanking him. _Closed off? Does this have to do with what happened with Duran and Trian?_ I thought, slightly concerned with the news. It had been months since then – did the Assembly of deshyrs really work _that_ slowly?

"Well that sounds ominous," Leliana commented as I found her and some of the others nearby, glancing up at the gates and cringing at the shrill yelling that echoed down towards us.

"Indeed. It seems that all chaos breaks loose the moment a Blight descends upon us," Morrigan replied, looking up at the grand gates curiously, her yellow eyes taking in every detail.

"Ohh…and I was hoping we could just go in and have an audience with King Endrin. We're going to end up spending _weeks_ here, aren't we?" I moaned, feeling my shoulders sag at the thought.

"Plenty of time to find treasures hidden about the city," Zevran said, and I smiled at the incorrigible Elf.

"Right. But let's try _not_ to get arrested – we need _allies_ following us, not an angry mob," I replied. I nearly leapt out of my skin as someone grabbed me from behind, and I jumped forward, whirling around and glaring at Neria. "What the _sod_ do you think you're doing, Neria?" I asked with a scowl, my voice wavering as I placed a hand over my heart – I had barely caught the yelp of surprise in my teeth.

"Aw, no screaming this time? I've missed tormenting you, you know," Neria chuckled, and I muttered under my breath.

"Yes, well, when I die of a _heart_ -attack, _you_ can be the one to explain what happened to the others," I retorted. My gathered companions were looking on with some amusement at my twitchiness – even after all this time, I was still jumpy as a cat on live coals, as Daveth so aptly put it. "So…where's Sten? I need to talk to him," I added as I tried to change the subject, and Leliana pointed me in the direction he had gone. I collected the Qunari and told him about Faryn; we headed over to the merchant together, planning to confront him about Sten's missing blade.

Faryn was a skinny, gaunt-faced man with a shock of messy red hair, and suspicious, pouchy eyes that darted quickly from side to side. At our approach, he stared up at Sten and nearly fainted, his face turning deathly white. "Maker's breath, is that – Ah…I beg your pardon. Can I…help you friend?" he stammered out, trying to collect himself as he looked between me and Sten.

"Is something wrong?" I asked innocently, Sten looming over the man with a deadly calm look on his face.

"No, no! Nothing at all! Ah…just, you know, thought I saw… _something_ ," Faryn stuttered, avoiding our eyes as he nervously wrung his hands.

"Since you are clearly looking at me, I would say that you _do_ see something," Sten replied coolly, the tiniest hint of menace in his tone.

"Well…um…yes. Never you mind. Can I help you?" Faryn managed, looking squarely at me. I crossed my arms, letting Sten stare him down for a few moments longer, the man growing more uncomfortable by the moment.

"What do you sell here?" I asked, and Faryn fidgeted more, glancing up at Sten nervously.

"Well…a little of this…a little of that. You know, ah…used armor, mostly. Nothing…ah…that would really interest fine people like yourselves," he stammered, his lips twitching in an attempt to smile, coming out more as an awkward grimace.

"Is it refreshing or unsettling that this merchant is reluctant to show us his wares?" Sten muttered, and Faryn bit his lip.

"I take it you're Faryn?" I said, and the man's eyelid twitched nervously at my icy tone.

"Oh, you've heard of me? What…ah…what've you heard?" he asked. "And just so you know, some of my competitors have been trying to besmirch my sterling reputation," he managed to add, his voice wavering.

"Did you happen to find a Qunari blade, somewhere near Lake Calenhad?" I asked, and he glanced quickly up at Sten, and then back at me.

"Qunari? I'm afraid I don't know the word," he replied, and I crossed my arms.

"Where is my sword?" Sten asked sharply, and the man looked like he soiled himself.

"I don't have it no more, I swear by Andraste's knickers! I sold it to a Dwarf in Redcliffe, by the name o' Dwyn!" Faryn nearly wailed, staggering backwards.

"Dwyn? Really? Why would _he_ need a Qunari blade?" I wondered, and the man shrugged, shaking violently under Sten's glare.

"I don't know! I think he said he's a collector," Faryn gasped, and I nodded shortly. "If you'll excuse me, I have this sudden urge to pack," he cried, running off. We watched him go in silence, and I glanced up at Sten.

"Shall we head back to the others?" I asked, and he nodded.

We returned to our group, heading up to the great stone gates and pausing as we found the source of all the shouting we had heard earlier. A soldier, archer, and mage were standing before the gate guard, a bearded Dwarf with dark hair; the soldier was wearing armor with the crest of Gwaren on it, and Alistair and I looked at him warily.

"Veata! This land is held in trust for the sovereign Dwarven kings. I cannot allow entry at this time," the guard said firmly, and the solder looked outraged.

"King Loghain demands the allegiance of the deshyr or lords or whatever you call them in your Assembly! _I_ am his appointed messenger," the man demanded, and the Dwarf let out an unimpressed snort.

"I don't care if you're the king's _wiper_ , Orzammar will have none but its own until our throne is settled," the Dwarf replied, glancing up as we approached.

"Atrast Vala. We have urgent need to speak to your king," I said politely, giving a short, respectful nod.

"Who _doesn't?_ If _I_ don't get in, no one should," the soldier grumbled, and the Dwarf muttered something under his breath, shaking his head.

"I'm a friend of the royal family," I added, and my companions gave me bewildered looks. I pulled out the loop of leather around my neck, showing the Dwarf the signet ring with House Aeducan's seal on it, and his eyes widened slightly. He looked sad for a moment, shaking his head at me.

"Orzammar _has_ no king. Endrin Aeducan returned to the Stone not three weeks ago, sick over the loss of his sons," the guard explained, and my eyes widened slightly. _You know, I should have_ _ **sodding**_ _expected this,_ I thought exasperatedly. "The Assembly has gone through a dozen votes without agreeing on a successor. If it is not settled soon, we risk a civil war."

"A Blight is coming, and we ask for the aid of the Dwarves," I insisted, and the soldier scowled at me, crossing his arms.

"Wait, who are _you_ to speak for Ferelden? You're no messenger to _Loghain_ , that's for certain," he asked, and the Dwarf rolled his eyes.

"Thank the _ancestors_ ," he muttered.

"I am a Grey Warden. I have treaties that call for your people's aid," I explained to the Dwarf – making a point to ignore Loghain's soldier – and handing the guard the treaty pertaining to the Dwarves. He read it carefully, stroking his beard thoughtfully and looking between my group, and the frustrated soldier.

"The Wardens killed King Cailan and nearly doomed Ferelden! They're sworn enemies of King Loghain!" the man growled, outraged that the Dwarf was still even listening to us.

" _King_ Loghain?" I murmured, glancing back at Alistair, who was glowering at the man with steely eyes.

"Well, that _is_ the royal seal. That means only the Assembly is authorized to address it. Grey Wardens, you may pass," the Dwarf guard said, handing me back the treaty. I could see his beard twitching slightly as he hid a smug smile, the soldier nearly throwing a fit at his words.

"You're letting in a traitor? And a foreigner?" he fumed, glowering at me. "In the name of King Loghain I _demand_ that you execute this… _stain_ on the honor of Ferelden!" he yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at me.

"Who are _you_ to demand anything of the Dwarves?" the guard growled, fingering the pommel of his axe angrily.

 _Ugh, I've had_ _ **enough**_ _of this idiot._ "Run to your false king, _coward_ , before I send him your head in a box," I threatened, my eyes flashing as I slid my saber part-way out of its sheath.

"You…you'll hear of this. King Loghain will see you quartered!" the man yelled, running off with the archer and mage.

"And you say that you are not very intimidating," Zevran teased, and I snorted, sheathing my blade and returning my attention to the guard.

"Sorry about that," I apologized, and the Dwarf shook his head, a grim smile on his face.

"No, you've done me a service. That fool Imrek was barking for a week. Are all humans so touched?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"I don't know. Shems are a mystery sometimes, honestly," I replied.

"You are free to enter Orzammar, Grey Warden, though I don't know what help you will find," the guard said, giving a respectful nod and motioning for the other guards to open the gates.

Alistair must have seen me tense slightly as the gates rumbled open, placing a hand on the small of my back and looking down at my face. "Are you alright?" he asked gently, and I nodded.

"Yes, it's nothing," I replied quickly, and he patted my shoulder reassuringly. Despite the high ceilings…I still didn't exactly _like_ being underground. Neria looked similarly uncomfortable as we passed through the gates, her face going pale as they closed with a loud boom behind us. We entered a grand hall, the walls covered in intricate carvings depicting scenes of the distant past. At regular intervals, tall statues stood in the images of proud Dwarf men and regal Dwarf women, their expressions stern, but full of wisdom and power.

"Atrast vala, Warden. Your arrival is a mixed blessing," a guard greeted us by a balcony at the top of the stairs, overlooking the hall. "We prefer that outsiders not witness our infighting, but your presence will be tolerated," he added, and I nodded respectfully.

"Those statues over there… I saw them last I was here, but…" I trailed off with a shrug, leaning over the balcony and looking at the carved stone monoliths.

"Paragons; the best of the Dwarves' ancestors, if I remember correctly," Alistair replied, joining me.

"If there is anything complimentary to be said about these people, 'tis that they possess a remarkable facility for carving stone," Morrigan remarked as she looked at the intricately decorated walls and pillars, and I snorted, amused by her straightforwardness.

"Did I ever mention that I _really_ don't like caves?" Neria muttered under her breath, looking up at the ceiling of the hall and covering her mouth as she thought of the miles of mountain above our head, her eyes flashing as they reflected the faint light. The thought was enough to disquiet my own mind, and I quickly tried to push away the nausea that rose in my throat. Zevran seemed fine, as did most of the others, although Morrigan looked slightly uncomfortable as well. _You'd think that a city Elf would be used to tight spaces,_ I thought with chagrin as we continued on.

"Wow…they use lyrium as _decorations?_ " I heard Jowan murmur, and I followed his gaze towards the ceiling, where curved spirals of pure lyrium ore were set into the edges of murals, casting faint blue light everywhere. A tingle went down my back as I sensed the sharp, crystal sting of the material, and the hairs on my arms stood up. _I didn't see that before. Maybe it's not just the tunnels making me sick…?_ I thought, trying to shrug off the feeling of goose bumps as we walked down a set of steps.

As we walked through the lower section of the hall, I overheard a conversation between a mother and her daughter as they stood before the statue of a particularly stern-looking Dwarf woman, the name 'Branka' carved into the base of the statue, both in Dwarvish and in common-tongue.

"Now _that's_ a thing of beauty, daughter. If you work hard like Branka, all Orzammar will know your name," the mother said, looking up at the statue of the Paragon with bright eyes, full of reverence and admiration.

"Mother, I don't _want_ to be like her! She–" the young girl began, but her mother cut her off with a stern glare.

" _Don't_ say that! Not to me, not to _anyone!_ Now get back to the forge; I want to see more details!" the mother's tone was suddenly harsh, and I felt bad for the poor girl as she hung her head.

"Yes, Mother," she replied weakly, following the woman as they headed back towards the end of the hall.

"Hmm…Paragon Branka? She looks…quite angry," Leliana observed, standing in front of the statue once the Dwarves had gone.

"I thought _all_ of the Paragon statues looked rather stern," I replied, but now that she had mentioned it, Branka's face was a bit harsher than the others. "I wonder how she became a Paragon? And this statue looks relatively new compared to the others," I mused, glancing up at the statues as we continued down the hall, opening the carved doors and entering Orzammar proper.

The city was as grand as I remembered, with buildings carved right from the stone walls of the soaring cavern, the ceiling so high that it faded away into darkness. Molten streams of magma poured down the walls, creating beautiful, deadly columns of fire that pooled into a sea of flames far below. The city was very warm, and we pulled off our cloaks, the heat of the magma rising up towards us.

"Hmph. Not bad," I heard Sten mutter, and I smiled – even the stoic Qunari was impressed by this place.

"I have heard much about the halls of the Dwarven kings, but the stories do it no justice. It is so strange – harsh, yet beautiful," Leliana murmured, staring around the giant cavern.

"I don't really like being in caves. Thinking of having a whole mountain…over my head…" I trailed off, suddenly feeling ill at the thought, my face going pale. Neria shot me a glare as I brought it up again, making a face and concentrating on looking at her shoes.

"Weren't you here before?" Alistair asked with a crooked smile, and I snorted.

"Doesn't mean I've gotten _used_ to it," I muttered, calming myself down. _And it doesn't help that there's so much lyrium about, either. Have I…become more sensitive to it since last time?_ I wondered, faintly sensing the magical ore hidden away in the stone, or used as decorations on the nearby buildings and in lanterns that hung from the walls.

"The Dwarves have lived here for thousands of years. I'm sure it is perfectly safe," Leliana assured me, seeing my discomfort. "And have you seen those tiny pig-like burrowing animals? They are adorable – I wish I could have one as a pet. But they must be hard to catch and…oh, just ignore me. I'm so silly sometimes. Let's just go," Leliana babbled, and I smiled at her.

 _Pig-like burrowing animals? Nugs?_ I wondered as we continued on. "And the trouble begins," Wynne murmured, nodding ahead as we glanced at her.

Standing in an open area before a long bridge were two groups of Dwarves, with a large crowd beginning to gather on either side. The Dwarf standing at the head of one of the groups was an older man, with a long grey beard that was neatly braided, wearing fine clothes and gold jewelry. At the head of the other group was a blonde-haired Dwarf with a stern face for one so young, wearing gleaming armor marked with the symbol of the Dwarven Royal Family embossed on the breastplate. _Oh sod, is that Duran's brother? What's his name…Bhelen?_ I thought, trying to recall the name; the family resemblance was striking, and I felt a subtle anxiety in my stomach as I watched the Dwarves.

"It is the Assembly who makes a king, and a king who nominates his successor. None of it is carried in the blood," the older Dwarf was arguing, and some of the commoners on his side of the group gave murmurs of agreement.

"Or, as now, when someone tries using the Assembly to pull a coup," the younger Dwarf retorted, crossing his arms and glaring at the older man. "Who's to say what my father said in his final hours, when the usurper Harrowmont was the only one by his side?" he argued, and the commoners on his side gave a low rumble of agreement.

"I'll have you thrown in prison!" the older man huffed.

"You've bitten off more than you can chew!" Bhelen yelled, hand flying to the sword handle that poked over his shoulder. The crowd's shouts rose in volume, and people began milling about, starting to riot.

"Oh, lovely, more chaos," I muttered cynically, crossing my arms and letting out a weary sigh. "Watch, we're going to have to get involved in this mess. I just know it," I added.

"Handlers! Separate these deshyrs in the Diamond Quarter! I will not have Bhelen incite a riot!" a guard yelled, drawing his blade and stepping between the arguing Dwarf nobles.

"You'll not speak that way about the man who should be king!" another guard yelled, shoving the first guard roughly aside, standing beside the prince and politely escorting him away. The older Dwarf was glaring daggers at the younger noble as he was also escorted to the Diamond Quarter.

"Stone-blind idiots! I won't have fighting in the commons! Especially in front of outsiders!" a Dwarf muttered nearby, shoving his way roughly through the crowd as the commoners dispersed. His armor was slightly more elaborate than the other guards, and I assumed he was the guard captain, perhaps. "Veata, surfacer! I am bid to let you walk the commons, but keep your place. Warden or not, I want _order_ ," he added, looking up at me pointedly and crossing his arms.

"A Blight is coming, and the Grey Wardens need assistance," I explained, and the Dwarf snorted, nodding to his left, towards where the nobles had been escorted.

"Surface problems," he muttered, shaking his head. "Well, we have no king to hear you. You can join the shouting at the Assembly in the Diamond Quarter, if you want," he said, looking me up and down, eyes lingering on my weapons. "Bunch of deshyr lords bickering over sand. Bhelen, Harrowmont…is one so different? No Paragons here."

"It sounds like these men, Bhelen and Harrowmont, are the ones to talk to," Morrigan suggested, and I nodded.

"They've caged themselves for fear of each other. As you've seen, keeping order down among us working people is dodgy. No place for a proper lord," the guard captain replied, letting out a quiet sigh and massaging his forehead, obviously stressed by the turmoil in the city. "Bhelen speaks through his second, Vartag Gavorn, in the Assembly. Lord Harrowmont speaks through Dulin Forender from his estate," he added, and I nodded, making note of the names.

"You mentioned Paragons earlier?" I asked, and he gave me an almost impatient look, shaking his head.

"Surfacers appoint no Paragons? Truly you're lost in all that sky. They are the best of us, declared living ancestors," he explained. "If you must be our Warden, at least _know_ us. Go to the Shaper of Memories in the Shaperate. The true bright spot in the Diamond Quarter," he muttered the last part, glowering in that direction.

"Thank you for the information. We should probably get going," I said, nodding respectfully.

"Yes, you should," he replied brusquely, watching as we headed towards the Diamond Quarter. As we walked, I could feel the gaze of the Dwarves upon us – young women doing their shopping were gossiping and giggling as we passed, and I fought hard not to scowl as I heard a guard say 'No king, and now packs of Elves running around like they own the place!' when he caught a glimpse of Neria, Zevran and me walking by.

oooo

The Diamond quarter was closer to the ceiling of the cave, with streams of magma pouring down right near the soaring balconies. The houses were lavishly built, with precious metals, gems, and barbs of lyrium used to accentuate the finely carved stone walls. "Let me guess. This is where the rich Dwarves live, yes?" Zevran observed, whistling at the architecture.

"I suppose that building the city in the midst of a pool of molten rock saves invaders the trouble of burning it," Sten remarked, and I bit back a snort of amusement.

" _I'm_ still hung up on the fact that there's so much unprocessed _lyrium_ about. I am going to have _such_ a migraine later…" Jowan mumbled, giving the lyrium spires a wide berth, as did Wynne and Morrigan. _The refined stuff used in potions must be much less potent,_ I concluded.

"Hmm…I wonder where we'll be staying?" Alistair murmured. "If the Assembly is as deadlocked as the guards say, we might be spending quite some time in Orzammar; usually, Grey Wardens stay in the Diamond Quarter, but I doubt we'll get that luxury in the midst of political chaos," he remarked, glancing around the group. "Did anyone see an inn?" he added, and the others shook their heads.

"I know a place – I stayed there last time I was here. Stone beds…but better than nothing," I sighed, cringing at the memory.

"Delightful," Zevran muttered sarcastically.

"So that must be the palace," Neria noted, looking up at a grand building with the Aeducan banner hanging over the large stone doors.

"For such a short people they do rather like their buildings…tall," Morrigan added, and I smiled.

"Maybe they're compensating for being vertically challenged?" Neria suggested, and I bit back a laugh at the look on a guard's face as he overheard us talking. We found the Assembly, entering a small entrance hall and looking around, keeping our voices down as we heard shouting from within.

"The Assembly is in session. Enter quietly if you wish to observe," a guard said, seeing my curious look. He was eyeing Olan a bit warily, but I assured him that the mabari would behave, giving the dog a pointed look. Our group entered in silence, watching the angry deshyrs argue. Their seats were on raised platforms, reminiscent of an arena, with a Dwarf standing on a raised pedestal in the center, trying to keep the angry nobles calm.

"Your mind has gone to dust if you think we would pass such a writ. Half our houses would go broke without the surface trade," a noble shouted, glaring at a Dwarf sitting a few rows up from him, across the room.

"The proposal is only effective until we have a king to ensure we are respected by the surfacers!" another Dwarf shouted, and echoes of both agreement and dissent bounced off the stone walls.

"Leaving _you_ conveniently positioned to take over all contracts. I'll see your head on a pike, first!" the first Dwarf yelled, slamming his fist down on his podium, his face reddening with anger.

"Deshyrs, lords, and ladies of the Assembly; I've already doubled the guard to prevent violence. Must I summon more?" the Dwarf on the center pedestal asked, crossing his arms and looking up at the gathered nobles.

"Steward Bandelor, Bhelen's sympathizers are tying our hands with trivialities! They may as well open us to the sky!" the first Dwarf called down, gripping the edge of his seat.

" _I_ suggest we put the matter to a vote," a noblewoman called, and the second Dwarf glowered at her.

"And _I_ suggest you have a taste of my family's mace –" he growled.

Steward Bandelor rapped his stave against the stone floor, shouting for order. " _Enough!_ The Assembly is in recess until the members can regain control of their emotions!" he yelled, calling in guards as they escorted the agitated nobles out of the Assembly room. We stood awkwardly in the hall, watching the steward lock the doors and muttering darkly under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Stone-forsaken fools and _dusters_ …" he looked up at us apologetically. "I'm sorry. This is the Assembly of the Clans. Only deshyrs and occasional guests of state are allowed in," he said, looking us over carefully.

"We're just observing, pay us no mind," I replied, and his eyes widened in surprise as he seemed to recognize us.

"Oh, Stone! You must be the Grey Wardens. I completely forgot about the gate guard's message," he gasped, giving me a short bow. "Welcome to Orzammar, Wardens. I hope you can forgive our unrest. The loss of our king has hit us hard," he apologized, and I shook my head, saying that it was understandable. "Respect for your role is great, but you won't receive a proper hearing until we have a king on the throne."

"A Blight is coming," I said simply, hoping that it didn't sound _too_ ominous, and the Dwarf sighed, nodding.

"Troubling, but it will still seem distant compared to the empty throne. The Assembly is blind to all else," he replied regretfully.

"Is there any way that I can…break this stalemate?" I asked, and the steward crossed his arms, shrugging.

"I must admit, Warden, I am at a loss myself. It lies with Prince Bhelen or Lord Harrowmont, and they are slow to trust anyone in these uncertain times. Dulin Forender, Harrowmont's man, can be found at the Harrowmont estate. Vartag Gavorn, Prince Bhelen's second, is often here in the Assembly, or out by the palace," Steward Bandelor suggested, and I nodded. "I only wish there was more I could do for you." He apologized once more before returning to his duties, seeing to a pair of nobles who were trying to get his attention.

"Do we really have the authority to do something like this?" I whispered to Alistair, who shrugged. "Ugh, honestly, it seems like everyone in Ferelden is just sitting on their problems, ready to hurl them at us once we're close enough," I muttered, shaking my head.

"I thought you felt the need to save every wayward soul you come across?" Morrigan asked absently, looking up at an intricate carving on the wall.

"When they can't help themselves, yes. This is getting _ridiculous_ , though. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if we ended up having to go to the Deep Roads to find someone's missing _soup-spoon_ ," I replied, shutting my eyes and leaning against a wall.

"So who are you going to support?" Leliana asked, and I shrugged.

"I don't _know_. I'm not even sure of the whole situation yet. Politics are a bit of a mystery to me," I admitted. _From what Duran told me, Bhelen's a cold-hearted killer…a pragmatist…but that might be what we need to stop the Blight,_ I thought, chewing my lip nervously. _But if I support him…I feel like I'd be betraying Duran…_ I let out a soft sigh, glancing at the others as they noticed my slightly troubled expression.

"I'm going to head back to the commons and see about finding us rooms – the tavern's called Tapsters, and it's near Dust Town, on the other side of the commons," I explained. "You're all free to do what you want, but I'd like to meet back at that big bridge in two hours. If you can, maybe keep an ear out for mentions of Bhelen and Harrowmont – the people here know them better than we do," I said, and everyone nodded, heading off in groups of two.

Alistair had been watching me quietly the entire time, and I looked up at him with a small smile. "I noticed your look, Alistair," I teased, and he reached out, taking my hand and twining my fingers with his, smiling slightly at me.

"It always amazes me how you take charge of a situation like that. I'm…a little jealous, to be honest. I wish I could be as confident," he sighed, and I smiled up at him.

"Oh, you know I'm not so strong all the time," I sighed, turning his hand over in mine and looking at the calluses across his palm, where the grip on his sword rubbed against the skin. "It's the _illusion_ of confidence that's the trick – even in a situation where there's little information, simply remaining calm and _acting_ confident can help," I continued, glancing back up at him.

"I'll keep that in mind," Alistair said, following me as I pushed myself off the wall and walked out of the Assembly hall, heading back towards the commons. Before we left the Diamond Quarter, I paused, standing by a balcony and looking out at the magnificent view of the city from overhead, my breath almost taken away.

"I've never seen anything quite like this," I breathed, looking down at the sea of magma below. "I stayed in the commons mostly, last time," I explained.

"It's breathtaking," Alistair replied, looking warily over the edge. "So does being underground bother you that much?" he added, watching as I leaned against the balcony.

"Ah, you noticed that?" I asked, and he nodded.

"You and Neria looked like you were going to be sick," he remarked, and I shrugged.

"Well, up here, and back down in the commons, it's a little better; the main cavern's big enough not to make me _too_ nervous. Still…the whole 'mountain over my head' thing is a little… _nnng_ ," I let out an uncomfortable sound, making a face as I thought about it. "For Neria…I guess it could be the same. She _did_ grow up in the woods, after all," I added.

"Well, so long as you don't think about that too much, I'm sure you'll be okay," Alistair reassured me, and I nodded. "So how long have you known her? Neria I mean," Alistair asked curiously, and I glanced up at him, giving a small shrug.

"A couple of years. She came to Denerim a while back – never really told me her whole story, but I gather it's unpleasant – and Daveth and I helped her out of a bad situation," I replied.

"She seems very…excitable," he remarked, though not disapprovingly, "and I think Zevran's taken an interest in her," he added, and I grinned.

"Yes, I notice him watching her some nights in camp. She doesn't seem disinclined to that sort of thing either – I caught her ogling him when he was on sentry duty the other night," I laughed, walking next to Alistair as we headed back to the commons.

oooo

As we walked through the marketplace, we listened to the gossiping Dwarves. It seemed that support for Bhelen and Harrowmont was about half-and-half. From what I could tell, Harrowmont was more rigid, and stuck to tradition, while Bhelen was a bit more flexible, and was encouraging interactions with the surface; I heard that he was even marrying a casteless girl – a noble-hunter who had borne him a son.

"Oh, the politics of the upper class. They're all such spoiled children," I snorted, shaking my head as I overheard a pair of guards arguing about the succession. "Makes me feel like I'm back in Denerim, listening to gossip about the nobles and their brats," I added.

"You sound a little homesick," Alistair replied almost teasingly, and I shrugged, the corner of my mouth turning up in a crooked grin.

"Maybe," I admitted with a chuckle. "Ooh, should I get one of the nobles to throw something at me? Then it'll _really_ be like I'm in Denerim again," I remarked sarcastically.

"Was it really that bad?" Alistair asked gently, hearing the hint of bitterness in my voice and I glanced up at him.

"Sometimes. You get used to being called 'gutter-trash' after the first hundred times or so," I replied. I let out a soft breath, smiling sadly as a wave of nostalgia washed over me.

"Is something the matter?" Alistair asked, and I chuckled, shaking my head.

"Oh, no, nothing bad. It's…silly," I murmured.

"You can't just say that and _not_ tell me," he insisted.

I let out a sigh, relenting. "I remember…when I was little, my mother got me a scarf for my naming day," I began, closing my eyes as I thought about it. "It was green, with red and black plaid patterning across the length, and so big – or maybe I was so small – that it was almost like a blanket, and touched the ground when I wore it," I recalled, blushing slightly as I opened my eyes, noticing Alistair smiling at me.

"Say, when _is_ your naming day, anyway?" he asked, and raised an eyebrow as my blush deepened. He cupped a hand to his ear as I mumbled the answer, taking a step closer.

"Satinalia," I repeated, a little louder, and I saw him fighting back a smirk. "Oh shut _up_ ," I muttered, elbowing him playfully. "You need to tell me yours, now – the other Grey Wardens told me it was in the summer, but they didn't say _when_ ," I added.

"That's fair enough, I suppose," Alistair replied. "I was told by Arl Eamon that it's on the fifteenth of Justinian," he said, and I frowned.

"Aw, we missed it, then! It's already _Solace!_ " I complained, and he raised an eyebrow. "I'll need to make it up to you, then," I added, chewing my lip and thinking.

"You…were going to get me something?" he asked, seeming intrigued, and I looped my arm in his.

"Of course I was – why wouldn't I?" I replied, and he smiled at the sudden stern tone I was using. "Well, now you'll just have to wait until Satinalia so I can get you something," I added airily, and he smiled helplessly at my insistence. Talking about home _did_ make me feel a little homesick, I had to admit. "When we…" I began, trailing off. Alistair saw the nervous look on my face, and we paused by a railing overlooking the sea of fire below. "When we go to Denerim, would you mind if we stopped by the Alienage for a bit? I know we probably don't have time for social calls, but I…" I trailed off as I saw Alistair roll his eyes at me. "What?" I asked, and he snorted.

"I'd hardly call you selfish for wanting to see your family. In fact, you are the most selfishly _selfless_ person I know – I'm almost afraid that you don't know what 'self' _means_ ," Alistair replied, and I looked up at him in surprise.

"I… _really?_ I…I didn't...realize that," I stammered out, and he shook his head.

"You're always taking responsibility for everything, always making sure we're alright… Adeline, sometimes, maybe you should let _us_ take care of _you_ ," he argued, and I made a face.

"I…know," I replied, crossing my arms. "It's not so much an issue of trust – I trust you with my life – but more of…guilt," I admitted softly. "People…have gotten hurt on my watch before, and I don't want that happening again if I can help it," I sighed, pursing my lips. "I appreciate you thinking of me, though; that's very kind of you," I added, looking up at him warmly.

"I can't help but worry about you sometimes, Adeline – it seems the moment I take my eyes off you, you're up to your pointy ears in trouble," Alistair replied teasingly, pinching my cheek affectionately and looping an arm in mine as we continued.

We headed towards the bridge, and I remembered that it led to the Proving Grounds, where Dwarves battled in an arena, each round having different rules. I saw Leliana walking by with Olan, herding a group of nugs, the creatures making small, snorting squeals as they walked.

"…what're you doing?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as the little animals wandered around, Olan gently nudging them back into line.

"Herding subterranean bunny-pigs?" she replied.

"Should I even ask why?" I sighed, and she grinned.

"Oh, just a curiosity," she answered, waving and heading off once more.

"I hear they eat those things down here," Alistair remarked, once she was out of earshot, and I glanced back at the nugs.

"Well, they _do_ look a bit like pigs. _I_ haven't eaten nug, though. I wonder what they'd taste like…?" I mused, and he rolled his eyes.

We continued down to the left of the Proving Grounds, looking around at the shops and pausing as we saw a woman praying near a Paragon statue, her face distraught. "I'm sorry. Did you have an offering for the ancestors?" she asked, noticing my curious look. "Although…I can't imagine your ancestors reside in the Stone," she added.

"You look sad. Is there something the matter?" I asked gently, and she bit her lip, glancing back up at the statue.

"I…my name is Filda, widow of Teruck of the Smith Caste. I pray here every day for my son, Ruck. I only wish I knew whether I should be asking for his safe return or for the ancestors to accept his soul," Filda murmured, her eyes downcast.

"Safe return? Has he gone missing?" Alistair asked, looking at the woman with concern.

"It was five years ago. He was only a youngster. He joined a Deep Roads excursion – the only smith to go with the warriors to repair their arms. He was so proud," she sniffed at the memory, her eyes glazing over. "But he got…separated somehow. When they came home, he wasn't with them," she finished, knitting her fingers together and closing her eyes, trying to compose herself in front of us.

"And no one's sent out a search party?" I asked, and she shook her head.

"The captains don't want to lose anyone searching for stray men. Too many were taken by darkspawn that way. I'm sorry, I shouldn't bother you. Stone guide your steps," Filda bade us farewell, returning to her prayers.

"Poor woman…if she knew her son were dead, she would at least have some closure, but not knowing…I can't even imagine," I murmured, glancing sadly back at her as we left.

"The Deep Roads are crawling with darkspawn. I'm not sure if _we_ could survive for five years down there, let alone a young blacksmith with no one to watch his back," Alistair sighed, his tone subdued.

"Well, _I_ survived for a few days on my own, with no armor and only a pair of daggers," I replied, and he smiled.

"I think you're a special case," he teased, and I snorted.

oooo

We came to a large building, the area outside echoing with raucous laughter and drunken singing. "Ah, Tapsters; drunken Dwarves and stone beds," I sighed nostalgically, looking up at the big sign that said 'Tapsters' near the door. "Ehn…Dwarf vomit. Charming," I added as the smell hit me, and I narrowed my eyes.

"I tried Dwarven ale once. I thought it was just something they tricked surfacers into drinking, as a joke," Alistair recalled, and I laughed.

"I haven't tried any. Is it that bad? Or that strong?" I asked, and he thought about it for a moment.

"Both."

We entered the tavern, the stink of drunk, sweaty Dwarves hitting me like a brick wall. "Oof, Maker's breath! I forgot to warn you about the smell," I muttered, taking a deep breath. "Ah, there; my sense of smell is gone," I sighed as I deadened my nose. There was a Dwarf man standing near the wall with a tankard in his hand, belting out a drinking song in Dwarvish, hiccupping after every few lines and sloshing his drink around.

"Atrast vala, strangers," a Dwarf woman greeted as we entered, her eyes widening in recognition. "Well, well! Never thought I'd see _you_ again," Corra greeted me with a smile.

"Good to see you too, Corra," I grinned. "Are there any rooms available?" I asked, and she looked between the two of us with a coy smile.

"Oh?" she asked, and I rolled my eyes.

"I don't mean like _that_ ," I muttered, and she laughed at my flustered expression.

"We've got some empty rooms on the second floor if you need lodging. Are there more of you?" she asked, and I nodded.

"There are…nine of us, and a mabari hound," I replied, counting off our number in my head.

"Mmm…you might have to share. There's a couple of beds in each room – once you find sleeping arrangements, come get me and I'll see about your fee," Corra said, and I thanked her. Alistair and I headed upstairs and examined the rooms – there were multiple beds in each room, all made of stone with a thin, padded sheet over each stone slab.

"Let's see…there's me, Leliana, Morrigan, Wynne, and Neria in one room, and then you, Jowan, Zevran and Sten in the other," I counted off, making sure that there were enough beds in each room. _I suppose it really doesn't matter – there's really no difference between the bed and the floor, at any rate,_ I thought, watching Alistair as he inspected one of the beds.

"Ouch, that looks painful," Alistair remarked, patting one of the low stone slabs. "How did you sleep on these?" he asked, and I smirked.

"Badly," I replied, and he laughed.

"It's a wonder everyone here doesn't have a stiff back and shoulders all the time," he added, and I laughed.

"Maybe they're used to it? Dwarves are a pretty tough people," I replied with a shrug. We headed back downstairs to find Corra about sleeping arrangements, stopping when we heard shouting and crashing. "What in the world is going on down there?" I asked, trotting down the stairs and stopping by the bottom.

A red-haired Dwarf man was yelling and sloshing his drink around, the braids on his beard swinging wildly as he glared about the room with bloodshot eyes. "You wanna fight?" he bellowed, glowering at some armored Dwarves in the corner, who ignored him. "Yeah, I _thought_ so," he muttered. His voice was gravely, and emotional from drink, and he snorted when he saw me watching. "Hey you! Elf!" he yelled, pointing at me.

"Uh…"

"Yeah, I'm talkin' to you, ugly," he rumbled, glowering drunkenly at me.

"Ouch," I replied, glancing up at Alistair.

"I'd give him a wide berth. We don't want to start anything," he sighed, watching the Dwarf warily.

"True," I replied. "We always seem to find trouble in the taverns. At least it's not like back in _Lothering_ ," I snorted, shaking my head.

"Yeah, fine, ignore me like the rest of these sodding nug-lickers," the Dwarf growled. He stomped over towards me, stumbling over an uneven tile on the floor and catching himself on a table. "Oh, sneak attack, eh? Come at me!" he yelled suddenly, running at me and falling flat on his face.

"Is…is he alright?" I asked Corra as she walked over, sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose, mortified.

"I am _so_ sorry about this, Wardens. He usually just sits in a corner and drinks himself to sleep," she apologized, and I shook my head.

"No, that's fine, he's just–" I jumped as the Dwarf grabbed my leg, glaring up at me.

"I'm not down yet," he muttered, staggering to his feet.

"Oghren, leave them alone," Corra said sternly, raising her voice, but the man didn't seem to hear her.

"She was _lookin'_ at me funny," he retorted, scowling at me.

"I'm sure we can resolve this peacefully," I tried, but my words were lost on the Dwarf. He staggered forward, and I grabbed his shoulders, making sure he didn't fall.

"Unhand me, woman!" he yelled, and I rolled my eyes, turning him around and directing him to a seat, patting his back as his head rolled forward, hitting the table with a thump as he passed out.

"I'm sorry, again," Corra sighed, shaking her head at the snoring Dwarf.

"No, it's fine. We're all sloppy drunks sometimes," I reassured her, and she gave a harsh laugh.

"More like _all_ the time for this one," she muttered, crossing her arms. "He's not usually this violent. He shouts and swears, but that's it. Someone must have brought up Branka," she sighed, and the name caught my attention.

"Branka? The Paragon?" I asked, and she nodded.

"Believe it or not, she was _married_ to this one. He _used_ to be one of the best in warrior-caste, but after she went missing…" Cora shrugged, indicating the drunk with a wave of her hand.

"Huh. Wait, she went missing?" Alistair asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mmm, yes, about two years ago," Corra recalled. "She headed into the Deep Roads to find something, but no one's quite sure what she was looking for. This poor sod's all that's left of their clan," she explained, and I felt a pang of pity for him.

"Poor guy," I sighed, crossing my arms. "So how much for two rooms?" I added, glancing back at Corra. I paid for the rooms, giving Alistair one of the keys as we headed out, back towards the commons. We browsed the market stalls for a while, listening to more gossip about the Assembly and the battle over the throne.

We met back up with the rest of our group by the bridge leading to the Proving Grounds, and I crossed my arms, leaning against the edge of the stone railing. "So do you have a plan?" Leliana asked, and I nodded, chewing on my lip.

"As it stands, _neither_ of the two candidates for the throne are very good," I sighed. "I don't know about the situation well enough, but from what I can tell, Prince Bhelen is the…stronger candidate – he's urging for changes in the caste-system, and more interaction with the surface. Maybe some good will come out of that in the long run; if Orzammar stays closed off from the rest of Ferelden, surface trade might come to a halt, and the Dwarves will have strangled themselves, essentially," I explained, feeling slightly guilty about my choice.

"Why do you concern yourself with the welfare of these people? They are not even your same race," Sten asked, and I shrugged.

"I suppose 'out of the kindness of my heart' isn't a very good answer?" I tried. "We need their help against the Blight, Sten – the Dwarves know more about darkspawn than anyone. Well, beside the Grey Wardens, but there aren't exactly that _many_ of us…and we're junior members of the order," I trailed off awkwardly, trying to return to the matter at hand. "Anyway, a bunch of shouting nobles isn't going to kill darkspawn, unless they hope to bore them to death. If I can get Bhelen to promise his support, I'll see what I can do to tip the Assembly's vote," I added, and Zevran raised an eyebrow.

"Mmm…something in your tone tells me that you are still unsure of yourself," the Elf observed, and I sighed.

"I suppose I should explain how I know the royal family – that's the reason for my concern, after all," I murmured, and the others nodded.

"Yes, I'm rather curious about that," Wynne remarked.

"Well…Bhelen's a…kin-killer," I said, lowering my voice so we wouldn't be overheard, and they stared at me. "Not that it's been _proven_ or anything – you see, he killed his eldest brother, Trian, and framed his second elder brother, Duran, for the crime," I explained. "I met Duran when he was exiled to the Deep Roads, and he told me the whole story. The _problem_ is that Bhelen is actually the better candidate," I sighed.

"…and you feel like you would be betraying your friend?" Leliana concluded, and I nodded.

"I don't think Duran was interested in the throne, honestly; Bhelen just needed a scapegoat," I murmured. "But Duran's part of the Legion of the Dead now. He's safe from Bhelen…so I suppose I shouldn't be too torn up about this," I was talking more to myself than the others. I shook my head quickly, composing myself.

"So the plan?" Morrigan asked, and I shrugged.

"That will be…tricky," I remarked.

"Involving yourself in politics in the more…shadowy areas?" Zevran asked and I snorted, giving him a crooked grin.

"Hah, that transparent, am I? If these deshyr are anything like nobility on the surface, convincing them to support Bhelen might involve things that…aren't strictly legal. Bribery, subterfuge…you know," I said, making a general waving motion with a hand.

"You would do this to get someone on the throne?" Wynne asked, a hint of disapproval in her tone.

"How _else_ are we going to get these stone-brains to vote?" I snorted, glancing back towards the Diamond Quarter. "Unless the ghost of King Endrin himself walks into the Assembly and _tells_ them who his successor is, I'm not sure what else we can do," I argued, and the old woman nodded slowly, hearing a bit of sense in my words.

"So Bhelen really killed his older brother?" Jowan asked, and I shrugged.

"You're surprised? Having multiple children in line for the throne can lead to bloodshed more times than not," I replied, and he pursed his lips. " _Especially_ if Bhelen is as pragmatic as I've been led to believe. However, I would rather have someone like that on _our_ side, and sleep with a knife under my pillow, so to speak," I added.

"Speaking of sleep, we've found lodging," Alistair piped up, and I nodded.

"Yes, we've rented rooms down at the tavern. There's a very angry, very drunk Dwarf in there by the name of Oghren, though, so I suggest you keep an eye out – he might try to pick a fight with you," I warned, and everyone nodded. Morrigan seemed to be disgusted with the idea of sleeping anywhere near a tavern, and I apologized. "I'll make it up to you, I promise," I said, but she still seemed a bit leery of the place.

"I do not even want to think from what manner of substance a cave-dwelling people would create their spirits," she muttered, shaking her head.

oooo

That evening, we returned to the tavern, splitting up and heading to our rooms. "Stone beds. Delightful," Morrigan grumbled as she saw them, and Neria let out a soft sigh.

"I bet sleeping on the _floor_ would be more comfortable," the Elf remarked, leering at the stone slabs as she sat, pulling off her boots and patting the thin sheet with distaste.

"Sadly, that's probably true. Olan, _honestly?_ " I complained as the dog leapt onto my bed. "Ugh, I suppose that it really _is_ no different from the floor," I added, shaking my head. "If you want your own bed so much, go sleep with the others – there're extra beds in their room," I snorted, and the mabari barked, his tail wagging playfully. "Oh don't you give me that!" I retorted, hands on my hips.

"You realize you are talking to a dog," Wynne commented, and I glanced back at her, smiling slightly.

"A dog who enjoys _sassing_ me," I replied, ruffling the wardog's ears as he made a low grumbling sound, sliding off the bed.

"At least these beds look clean. 'Tis more than can be said about the…filth downstairs," Morrigan muttered, lying stiffly on the thin blanket. She made a face, getting up and transforming into a large black cat, hopping back onto the bed and curling up. "Mmm, much better," she purred, and I laughed.

"Wish _I_ could do that right about now," I muttered, climbing onto my own bed and lying down, acutely aware of the uncomfortably stiff rock pressing against my side.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	24. Chapter 24: Hall of the Mountain King

Chapter 24

In the Hall of the Mountain King

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[Solace]

The next morning, Zevran woke before the others, pulling on his clothes and walking lightly outside of the room, tugging on his boots before heading downstairs for his morning exercise. He trotted silently down the steps, the tavern empty so early in the morning. _Or perhaps it is late in the evening?_ Zevran shrugged – he couldn't tell the time of day underground, but his body was used to a routine…so perhaps it _was_ daytime.

Zevran took a deep breath as he stepped out of the tavern, sniffing at the air; it was hot and stagnant, but better than the reek of Dwarf vomit that permeated the bar. He walked around the tavern, finding a small, back lot, taking off his shirt as he began stretching, flowing through different forms in silence, a look of intense concentration on his face.

Soon, a light layer of sweat coated his muscled back, which was decorated with twisting lines of tattoos, emphasizing his features. He stretched, letting out a soft sigh as he finished his exercise, knitting his fingers together and resting them lightly behind his head, turning to face Adeline; he had picked up the faint smell of cinnamon in the air, but had been pleasantly surprised that she had actually managed to sneak up on him otherwise. _The smell gave her away,_ he thought, walking over to the girl.

"Mmm…good morning, Warden," Zevran greeted her, smiling charmingly. Adeline nodded, embarrassed that he had caught her ogling him – the assassin smirked as he saw the blush rising in her cheeks. "Is there something you needed?" he asked, and Adeline shrugged. He could tell that something was on her mind, and he was always slightly amused by how she fidgeted under his gaze.

"I was wondering…could you teach me to fight like an assassin?" Adeline replied, and Zevran raised an eyebrow at her. _Oh? Despite being a rogue, she doesn't seem inclined to using stealth in battle. Although…she_ _ **did**_ _manage to sneak up on me, so she is not without skill…_

"Oh, I certainly _could_ … But I won't," Zevran said. "I swore to the Crows that the things they taught me were to remain a secret. And while, yes, they are already angry at me…I'd rather not push things. You see?" Zevran explained, and Adeline nodded.

"Alright. I can respect that," she replied, understanding.

"You handle yourself very well, regardless – did you not catch a crossbow bolt in mid-air once?" Zevran asked, and Adeline shrugged.

"…true. But good reflexes alone won't win a fight," she argued. Zevran walked over to her, strolling slowly around the girl in a circle and looking her up and down with a critical eye.

 _Strong legs, light form…she charges into battle at the head of the group, but her talents would be put to far better use taking enemies out from behind. It isn't that she lacks the speed or skill…but the intent,_ Zevran mused, stopping and placing a hand on his chin as he looked at Adeline. _She…is using herself as a living barricade. How romantic; like the old stories of the Grey Wardens creating a shield of their own bodies to protect everyone else,_ Zevran thought with amusement.

"Hmmm…I suppose the Crows are already furious, yes? What harm is another tweak to their nose?" Zevran relented with a small smile. In truth, he rather liked Adeline – she had been kind to him when the others had been suspicious, and he thought that he owed her this much, at least. "If you wish to be trained in the basics of an assassin, I can certainly show you. It shall be fun! I will make it fun, I promise," he added.

"Thank you, Zevran," Adeline said, looking at him gratefully.

"Well, let us begin, yes?" Zevran smiled, explaining the basics of unarmed combat; he was actually rather surprised at how quickly she picked it up – it was as if she had already been trained in the Crows' ways. She knew how to stand correctly; how to keep a relaxed, light stance so that she could move in any direction at any moment. Zevran demonstrated a few ways that she could disarm an opponent, some non-damaging – for if she didn't want to harm the person – and some that could cause crippling injuries, either by shattering the wrist, breaking the forearm, or dislocating the shoulder.

"Now, be very careful if you ever want to attack the abdomen," he explained, drawing a line down the center of his chest, across his solar plexus. "If you hit someone here, you can knock the wind out of them – you can even make someone faint, if you want to incapacitate them. However, if you hit someone too hard, say, with your knee or elbow, you could damage their organs or break their ribs. Only attack here if you are certain of your control…or you are going for the kill," the assassin warned, and Adeline nodded.

"I'll keep that in mind," she replied.

"So who taught you how to fight? You are from the Denerim Alienage, if I recall correctly?" Zevran asked, and Adeline nodded.

"Yes. My mother taught me how to fight," the girl replied.

"Did she also teach you how to throw knives?" he prodded, and Adeline raised an eyebrow.

"…yes?"

"Hmm…I suppose I might have to show you a thing or two, then," Zevran murmured.

"What are you talking about?" Adeline asked, and he shrugged.

"When you captured me, you were trying to kill me, no? You hit me with the pommel of the knife, not the blade," Zevran reminded her, and Adeline scoffed.

"I meant to do that. I'll have you know that my aim is _perfect,_ " the girl huffed, feigning offense. "I wanted to keep you alive long enough to interrogate you," she explained, and Zevran smiled.

"And I am grateful you did," Zevran said, patting Adeline's shoulder. _Ah…perhaps I truly_ _ **do**_ _live a charmed life,_ Zevran thought as he looked at the girl. "Now, perhaps you would like to practice what I have shown you?" he asked, and Adeline nodded.

"Very well. I'll be careful not to break anything," she teased, and the assassin grinned at her cocky expression. _Oh-ho, confident aren't we?_ Zevran thought, crossing his arms.

"Careful, gattina," he replied in an equally teasing tone. The pair of Elves paced slowly around the small courtyard, eyes locked, stances relaxed as they moved. As soon as Adeline fell into her natural stance, Zevran stared at her, realizing something. He held up a hand for her to wait as he grinned, barely containing his laughter. "I should have realized it sooner," he chuckled, and Adeline raised an eyebrow. "I thought that your fighting style looked familiar – you are already familiar with the basics of pies ligeros," he observed.

"I…yes," Adeline confirmed.

"I suppose that I should have expected as much. Very well – I will not go easy on you," the assassin grinned; he had learned a bit of the technique himself while spending time in Llomerryn. While most Crows looked down upon it, considering it an 'impure' form of their own unarmed styles, Zevran rather liked how showy it was – a bit of flourish in a fight was always a good distraction.

The pair of Elves circled slowly, their arms partially raised, mirroring their opponent's movements as they walked. Adeline saw Zevran's thumb twitch, and she instinctively leapt forward as he moved, running into her and grabbing the girl's arm as she struck at his shoulder with the heel of her palm – it would have been a jarring blow if he hadn't caught her wrist. "Too predictable," he chided, and Adeline leapt back, pausing for a heartbeat before dashing to the left, and suddenly changing direction as she got close to him. As Zevran lashed out with his left leg, Adeline dropped to the ground, sliding under him and kicking sharply at his right ankle. The assassin jumped, barely dodging the sweeping kick and stepping a few paces back, preparing for her next move.

Zevran dodged to the left as Adeline rushed his right side, and she suddenly changed directions again, plowing into him and grabbing his arm as he reached up to throw her off, turning and pulling his arm across her shoulder with both hands in an attempt to throw him off his feet and over her head. Zevran let himself be pulled in until his back touched her shoulder, grabbing her around the opposite thigh and locking his hands together in a vice-grip, knocking them to the ground as she lost her balance. They tumbled forward and hit the ground with a dull thump, rolling quickly to their feet and grappling, nearly holding their breath as they fought.

Their arms locked as they braced themselves, but Adeline was lighter, and found herself sliding backwards against the smooth stone pavement and towards the back wall of the tavern. She swore under her breath and kicked at Zevran's kneecaps and shins, the assassin grinning as he moved lightly out of the way, still gripping her shoulders as she restrained herself from digging her nails into his skin. Zevran shifted his leg forward, pressing it against Adeline's left foot and sliding it to the side, widening her stance and throwing her off balance as her right knee buckled.

The girl staggered backwards, hitting the wall, and Zevran shoved her shoulders back, his forearm at her throat, pressing his weight against her collarbone and holding her down. They gasped for breath, leaning heavily against the wall, and Adeline smiled up at him, her green eyes bright with excitement. Zevran felt like someone had stabbed him in the heart with a hot iron as memories of sparring with Rinna resurfaced. "I…guess I still have a lot to learn," she gasped out, panting.

"Practice, gattina. Once you master what I've shown you, I can teach you more," Zevran replied as he tried to calm himself, and Adeline nodded eagerly, not seeming to notice the subtle look of pain in his eyes.

"I look forward to it," Adeline said, wiping sweat from her brow as Zevran let her up, fanning herself with a hand. Zevran took in a long, slow breath, cocking his head as he looked at her – the cinnamon smell was almost overwhelming. He wondered if she actually carried sticks of the spice in her pocket, and one had broken during their spar. "Looks like we had an audience," she commented, glancing back towards the street. Dwarven children were watching the pair of Elves with big eyes, their mouths open in awe. When they saw that the two noticed them, they scattered, laughing and grinning as they ran off.

As the pair walked back to the tavern, the trickle of early morning shoppers slowly filling the commons, Adeline glanced up at Zevran. "So, Master Zevran, why don't you tell me about your adventures," she asked, and he raised an eyebrow. _My…adventures?_ Zevran thought oddly. _Ah, perhaps about my missions before we met,_ he realized. He couldn't help teasing her, though, and he feigned ignorance.

"My adventures?" he chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall of the building – he wasn't quite ready to step back into the tavern yet – he preferred the warm smell of cinnamon out here to Dwarf vomit inside any day. "I'm hardly an old man just returned from across the ocean, am I? Should I shake my fist at nearby children while I talk about the good old days?" he teased, and Adeline rolled her eyes at him.

"You certainly _talk_ like you've had adventures," she replied.

"Falling down a flight of stairs is an adventure. Falling into someone's bed? Also an adventure. I am assuming what you're looking for are professional anecdotes," Zevran said, tapping his chin as he thought. "Let's see… My second mission ever for the Crows was a bit intriguing – I was sent to kill a mage who had been meddling in politics."

"On your _second_ mission?" Adeline asked with surprise, and Zevran smirked.

"Well, it _was_ just the one mage. Not as simple a mission as a vagrant Grey Warden or two, perhaps," he replied, and she chuckled.

"So how was she meddling in politics?" Adeline wondered, and Zevran shrugged.

"How should I know? I got the impression it involved sex…but then I get that impression about most everything. Odd, really," he joked, continuing. "As it turned out, the mage in question was quite a delightful young woman – long, divine legs, as I recall. I caught her in a carriage on her way to escape to the provinces. After I killed her guard, she got down on her hands and knees and begged for her life…rather aptly, I might add. So I joined her in the carriage for the night and left the next morning," Zevran said.

"And she _didn't_ try to kill you?" Adeline asked, and the assassin shrugged.

"Well, yes. Twice, actually. Then she decided to try and _use_ me, instead," he continued. "The woman had actually convinced me to speak to the Crows on her behalf. What can I say? I was young and foolish at the time. Then, as I was kissing her good-bye to return to Antiva City, she slipped on the threshold and fell backwards out of the carriage. Broke her neck. Shame, really, but at least it happened quickly," he recalled.

"So you…didn't actually kill her," Adeline remarked.

"Not _actually_ , no," Zevran nodded. "I was a bit unimpressed by the development, at first. Then I found out that she had told the driver to take her to Genellan instead. She had planned to lose me in the provinces. I would have looked very foolish to the Crows. As it was, my master was very impressed that I had done such a fine job of making it look like an accident; the Circle of Magi was unaware of foul play and everyone was happier all around," Zevran finished, and Adeline raised an eyebrow.

"These sorts of things happen to you often?" she asked wryly, and he smiled charmingly at her.

"Like being spared by a benevolent mark who then helps me escape from the Crows? Yes, it does seem to happen now and again, doesn't it?" he replied with a wink. "It was after that when I learned that one needn't let a pretty face go to your head. Professionalism was key – that's my moral of the day, you see," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, and Adeline smiled a bit.

"A wise lesson," she remarked.

"And one that not everyone learns, I'm sad to say. But that's enough tale-spinning from me, for the moment. Talking about the mage has made me a bit nostalgic, I'm afraid. Ah, the good old days," Zevran sighed, motioning for them to head back into the tavern.

oOo

By now, the others had gotten up, and were eating breakfast down in the tavern, glancing over with wide eyes at our approach. "Did you two run around the entire city? You're covered in sweat," Neria laughed, propping her elbows up on the table as I sat down.

"Sparring," I replied, pulling my hair up and rolling up my sleeves, cutting myself some of the oddly-colored lichen bread.

"Unarmed?" Neria asked, her eyes scanning the both of us for weapons.

"Yes," I answered, spreading a thick, dark-brown…marmalade, maybe? ...on the bread and taking a bite. I coughed at the salty taste, my eyes tearing up as I hurriedly took a draught of water – the stuff had almost dried out my tongue, it was so salty.

"If you are interested, perhaps I might teach you a thing or two," Zevran offered, smiling charmingly at Neria as she propped her elbows up on the table.

"Would you now?" the warrior replied, her teeth flashing as she reflected his smile. I tried to listen to Jowan and Leliana's discussion about…something…as the two made eyes at each other.

"I am told that my teaching techniques are very thorough, and very enjoyable," Zevran winked.

"I'm afraid I might not be as… _flexible_ as a rogue," Neria added suggestively.

"That simply means that you will need a great deal of practice, my dear," Zevran remarked, and I shoved the rest of the bread slice into my mouth, looking away hurriedly as I made a face – just _listening_ to them made me feel like a voyeur. I glanced at Alistair, who was busying himself with folding and unfolding a napkin, his ears blushing faintly at the tips.

I swallowed hard – my tongue feeling like a pickled fish after whatever that breakfast-spread was – taking a long drink of water before clearing my throat, trying to get everyone's attention. "So, today, I'm going to see about having an audience with the Prince. I don't want it to seem like we're trying to intimidate him, so until I've gotten his trust, we can't all go to the palace at once. Does anyone want to come in particular?" I asked, looking around the table. "It's probably best that both of us are there," I added, glancing at Alistair, who nodded.

"I would like to come with you as well," Wynne piped up.

"I would also like to meet this kin-killing prince – intrigue in the court makes me feel like I am back in Antiva City," Zevran added with a grin, and I chuckled. No one else felt the need to join us, so I nodded, saying that they could spend the day as they liked.

We left Tapsters and walked down towards the Proving Grounds, Zevran attempting to strike up a conversation. "You know, Alistair, Antiva has a long tradition of royal bastards," he began, and I almost felt Alistair rolling his eyes behind me. I wondered how Zevran knew about Alistair's heritage – we didn't exactly talk about it much – but I assumed he had either eavesdropped on us at some point, or had been told by Loghain when he was hired.

"You don't say?" Alistair replied, not sounding very interested in what the Elf had to say about it.

"Oh, yes. They've led wars to claim the throne. Some of them have become kings. In fact, I'd say the current royal line in Antiva stems from bastard blood several times over," Zevran continued.

"Well aren't you just chock full of useless trivia today," Alistair snorted, and the assassin grinned, ignoring his sardonic tone.

"Sadly, whenever a royal bastard rears their head in public and declares themselves, it often goes poorly for them," he added, and Alistair glanced at him.

"Let me guess; they get…assassinated?" he asked, and Zevran shrugged.

"Only the very popular ones," the Elf replied.

"And the unpopular ones?" Alistair asked.

"Well, they get by somehow, I'm sure," he answered. "There was one fellow who did quite well working as a prostitute based on his uncanny resemblance to the king. Charged a fortune," Zevran recalled, and Alistair raised an eyebrow at him.

"Couldn't afford him, I take it?" he replied, and Zevran smirked.

"That cynicism will serve you well, my friend. Hold onto it," the Elf chuckled. We continued on in silence for a bit, when Alistair spoke up, looking back at Zevran.

"So…why would the Crows send _you_ , Zevran?" Alistair asked curiously, and Zevran raised an eyebrow.

"Is there some reason why they should not?" the Elf wondered, and Alistair crossed his arms.

"Plenty of reasons. Starting with the fact that you weren't exactly the best they had, were you?" Alistair remarked, his tone suspicious.

"Slander and lies. For shame, Alistair," Zevran replied melodramatically, trying his best to sound insulted.

"I'm not an idiot. Well, not _most_ of the time. You're no raw recruit, but I've seen you fight. You're no master of combat, by any means," Alistair argued, and I glanced back. _Huh. He seems decent enough to me,_ I thought, _although I guess…I haven't exactly seen any other professional assassins. Or very experienced fighters of that style. Huh. Why_ _ **did**_ _Zevran come, and not that other fellow that was with him? I assume he's an assassin as well, by how familiar the two were with each other,_ I thought, recalling the dark-haired human Zevran had been traveling with.

"Assuming that I intended a fair fight, that would indeed be a problem," Zevran remarked, and I thought about that as well. _Right. He's a proper rogue – he doesn't just charge into the thick of things like I do._

"But the Crows must have master assassins, the way you describe them. Men with years and years of experience. Why not send them?" Alistair asked.

"Why not, indeed? It is a mystery for the ages," Zevran replied, avoiding the question.

"Oh, I get it. You're not going to tell me," Alistair snorted, his expression sour.

"Morrigan said you were sharp. No liar, she," Zevran grinned, amused by Alistair's glare.

oooo

The four of us headed to the Diamond Quarter, pausing as a young Dwarf woman hailed us down. "Excuse me!" she called, and I glanced at her, walking over. She had big, bright eyes that shone with curiosity, and short red hair that was pulled into a pair of pig-tails behind her ears. "I, um, do you…have a moment?" she asked as I approached, suddenly nervous.

"What do you need?" I asked, smiling and trying to put the nervous girl at ease.

"You…you're humans, and Elves. From the surface," she breathed, her eyes sparkling. "Ah, sorry, of _course_ you're from the surface. I've been trying forever to find someone who really knows the surface world," the girl chattered excitedly, and I glanced back at the others, smiling faintly. "I-I don't suppose you've heard of something called the Circle?" she asked, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. My companion here is a senior enchanter of the Circle," I added, indicating Wynne, and the girl beamed from ear to ear, giving an elegant curtsey.

"Oh, my lady, it's an honor! I've never met an actual mage. Is it true you can manipulate nature's forces with your mind? Like you were born with lyrium in your veins?" she gasped, and Wynne smiled at her excitement – it was almost contagious.

"Don't let the glamour fool you, child. Wielding magic is a dangerous occupation and a great responsibility," Wynne said, speaking kindly, but firmly.

"You seem quite excited. Why are you interested in the Circle?" I asked. Dwarves couldn't use magic, as far as I knew.

"I don't want to _do_ magic. No Dwarf can cast spells, but I don't see why I shouldn't _study_ it," the girl argued. "It would be a valuable exchange. Orzammar would learn of one of the great natural forces of the surface, and the Circle gains direct access to our knowledge of lyrium smithing," she added, and I glanced back at the others.

"I'm sure the Circle needs all the allies it can get," Wynne said, seeing my unsure look.

"Then you'll tell them about me?" the girl bubbled, grinning at us.

"Of course. I promise I'll tell the First Enchanter himself, the next time we're there," I assured the girl, and she grabbed my hands, shaking them vigorously.

"That would be wonderful! My name is Dagna, daughter of Janar of the Smith Caste. Tell them I've already begun reading the Tevinter Imperium's "Fortikum Kadab", and it's just _fascinating!_ " she breathed, still shaking my hands. She had a very strong grip – I supposed that came with being a smith. "Did you know the Imperial Magister Lords once had genealogies of every human family known to produce a mage child?" she bubbled, information spilling out of her like a waterfall. "Oh, I'll go pack my bags right now! I'll be waiting by my father's shop!" she gasped, almost beside herself with joy as she ran off.

"Well, that was…certainly something," Wynne breathed, watching the girl running back towards her father's shop.

"Like a tiny whirlwind," I replied, smiling helplessly after the excited girl.

We entered the Diamond Quarter, stopping by the palace gates – a dark-haired Dwarf with a short beard and finely-crafted armor was standing by the doors, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, glancing up at our approach.

"Wardens, welcome. It is always a blessing for Orzammar to host your order," the Dwarf greeted politely, pushing himself off the wall and giving us a respectful bow. "I am Vartag Gavorn, top advisor to our good Prince Bhelen. What news do you bring?" he asked.

"A Blight is coming, and I had hoped to have an audience with Prince Bhelen," I replied, giving him a polite nod.

"You must understand, Harrowmont hides behind his good reputation while sending spies and assassins. Bhelen can't know who to trust," Vartag apologized, and I nodded.

"Yes, I can imagine, under the current circumstances. How can I prove my good intentions?" I asked, and the Dwarf smiled faintly – apparently he liked where this was going. I did not, but there wasn't much I could do about it.

"Harrowmont has engaged in a campaign of bribery and coercion to ensure that every house serves him. But if a neutral party, a stranger, were to approach certain key members, perhaps with irrefutable evidence of Harrowmont's deception…"

"Irrefutable evidence? Which I suppose _you_ have?" Wynne asked, a hint of scorn in her voice – she _also_ knew exactly what was going on, it seemed. We all did, probably, but there was no point in arguing over morality when something needed to be done.

"I'm certain my lord prince would show his gratitude," Vartag finished, and I crossed my arms, nodding shortly.

"Just tell me what needs to be done, and it will be done," I replied, and he nodded, glad that I was acquiescing.

"Harrowmont promised the same portion of his estate to two different deshyrs, Lady Dace and Lord Helmi. Harrowmont can't possibly grant it to both of them, but they won't find out until _after_ the vote is cast. I have copies of the promissory notes Harrowmont gave each of them. Once they see those, they should both reconsider their votes," Vartag explained, handing me the notes, which I looked over carefully.

"…right. Where can I find the two?" I asked, and Vartag nodded back towards the gates, leading to the commons.

"Lady Dace doesn't leave the quarter much, but Lord Helmi's adventurous, likes to spend his time at Tapsters…in the commons. Remember, don't tell them you got these papers from me. You learned of them and drew your own conclusions," Vartag said, and I nodded, motioning for the others to follow as we went to find the two deshyrs.

"You do realize those notes are probably–"

"Forgeries. Yes," I cut Wynne off, glancing back at her. "I'm sorry if you don't like what we have to do, but _something_ must be done. I don't particularly enjoy this either," I explained, and she nodded, relenting.

We found Lady Dace near her estate, leaning against the stone railing and watching the magma flow, her jewelry shining like fire as it reflected the colors of the molten rock. "Oh, I suppose you're one of the Grey Wardens everyone's been talking about," she said, sounding unimpressed as she looked at me.

"Are you Lady Dace, perhaps?" I asked, and she nodded, pushing herself off the balcony and crossing her arms as she looked up at me.

"I am. And what business would you have with me?" she asked. Her voice was firm, full of authority, but not unkind.

"…perhaps you would like to see these documents," I answered, handing her the papers that Vartag had given me.

"Well…this isn't exactly a surface broadsheet," she replied. Her eyes scanned over the papers, and her face turned pale. "Where did you get these? Never mind; it is true enough. But there is nothing I can do about it," Lady Dace said, placing a hand on her cheek, fingers tightening on the papers. She handed them back to me, explaining her situation. "This deal was made on behalf of our entire house – only my father can revoke it."

"I can bring these to him, then," I replied, and she bit her lip, shaking her head.

"He is leading a Deep Roads expedition, trying to secure an ancient thaig. It's unlikely he'll be back before the election, but perhaps this vote is important enough for you to brave the tunnels to tell him? The Dace family would be in your debt," she said, and I nodded.

"How will I know where to find him?" I asked, and she told me to wait a moment, walking back to her estate and calling for a servant to get something. She was back after a few minutes, holding a folded sheet of paper.

"He was searching an old Aeducan site. He left me with this map, in case his expedition never returned," she said breathlessly, handing me the map. "I'll give you a pass as well. Usually, no one is allowed past the front lines," Lady Dace added, giving me a small stone token, about the size of my hand, carved with some symbols in Dwarvish. "Good luck," she said, thanking us as we left.

"See? I _told_ you we'd end up in the Deep Roads sooner or later," I said, glancing up at Alistair, and he smiled.

"Right. So will it just be the four of us going? I don't see any of the others around," he asked, and I shrugged.

"Well, we're heading back to Tapsters to see Lord Helmi – if we see anyone along the way, we'll have them come along too. According to this map, the Aeducan thaig isn't very far; it's just a few miles into the Deep Roads. There shouldn't be too many darkspawn, especially with the Blight on the surface," I reasoned, and he nodded.

"True. I suppose we'll be fine. You know…Zevran, have you ever fought darkspawn before?" Alistair asked, glancing back at the Elf.

"I have not had the pleasure," Zevran replied.

"Right, I forgot. We haven't even _seen_ many darkspawn since Lothering," I breathed, surprised at how long ago it all seemed. "They must all still be concentrating in the Wilds. I…wonder how Flemeth's doing?" I murmured, and Alistair shrugged.

"One can never know with her, it seems. Morrigan doesn't seem too worried about her, but that's not exactly saying much," Alistair replied.

We found Lord Helmi in Tapsters, who seemed a bit weary at our news, but was overall unsurprised by the turn of events. He seemed more worried about having to break the news to his mother than about the news itself. I kept an eye out for Oghren while we were there, not wanting a repeat of yesterday, but the Dwarf was nowhere to be seen. _I hope the poor sod hasn't fallen over a balcony or something,_ I thought, suddenly worried. _Wait, why am I even wondering about him? He's got nothing to do with any of this!_ I tried to push down the worry, but a small bit of me still wondered about him.

Everyone else had made themselves scarce, apparently – we didn't see any of our group on the way to Tapsters, although on the way back towards the Diamond Quarter we caught Neria finishing up buying some fire arrows. She agreed to join us, evidently eager to test out her new gear on the darkspawn. We went down a set of steps by the Diamond Quarter to the lower area that led to the Deep Roads, blocked off by barricades.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot allow you past the front lines without a deshyr's permission," a guard said, holding up a hand to stop us as we approached. "And I've heard nothing of any new patrols scheduled to leave today," he added.

"Ah, right. Here," I said, handing him the pass Lady Dace had given me. "We're looking for Lord Dace's patrol," I explained, and the Dwarf looked over the pass, nodding and handing it back to me.

"I see you have his daughter's seal, so I will not stop you," he said, motioning for some of the other guards to move the barricades aside for us. "But be careful. Just because the beasts have pulled back from Orzammar doesn't mean there are any fewer in the Deep Roads. Either we finally have the edge, which I _doubt_ , or the beasts are building up numbers for the next attack," the guard muttered darkly, and I bit my lip.

"Well, actually, they've been massing in a horde on the surface," I replied – I hated to be the bearer of bad news, but I wondered why word hadn't gotten down here sooner. Was the city really _that_ isolated?

"The surface! But I thought the vermin never went up that far except… Except during _Blights_. Ancestors save us if that's what's happening," the guard sighed, shaking his head.

"Well if it isn't the Mad Elf," I heard someone say from behind us, glancing over my shoulder and spotting Captain Harney, the guard captain I had met on my first visit to the city. The others raised their eyebrows at the appellation, and I laughed at their confusion.

"Captain Harney!" I grinned, trotting over and clasping his hand in greeting.

"Captain, you know this woman?" one of the guards asked, and the captain snorted.

"She kept pestering me about going into the Deep Roads on her own – said she just wanted to 'have a look around'," the Dwarf recalled, and I smiled.

"Well I _did_ get what I wanted, didn't I?" I replied, and he rolled his eyes.

"That expedition that you left with thought you got eaten by the darkspawn," he remarked, and I crossed my arms.

"Wow. How many deaths is that now? Three?" I asked absently. "It was nice seeing you again, Captain," I added, and he smiled slightly.

"Heading down there again?" he asked, and I nodded. "Best of luck, then," he added, instructing the other guards to close the barricades behind us as we left.

"Mad Elf?" Zevran asked with a grin, and I rolled my eyes.

"You'll understand when we encounter darkspawn," I replied.

oooo

"These used to be highways as busy as any surface trade route. Looks like only the military travels here now," Alistair breathed, looking up at the high roof of the tunnels. This section of the Deep Roads still had a long stretch of carved highway, with canals of molten rock lining the sides, and tall, carved pillars holding up the tunnel roof.

I could feel the presence of darkspawn further ahead, nodding to Alistair, who sensed them as well. "Darkspawn," I warned Wynne, Neria and Zevran, the three drawing their weapons and preparing themselves.

As Alistair and I charged the creatures, a laugh escape my lips, the maddening excitement of battle rolling over me as I plowed into the darkspawn. We fought back-to-back, keeping the monsters from getting behind us, guarding each other's blind spot. Zevran didn't even have a chance to approach, and Neria and Wynne only managed to fire off a couple of arrows and spells; by the time the three could catch up to us, we were standing in the center of a ring of darkspawn corpses, grinning at one another like children.

"You're covered in blood," Alistair observed, smearing some blood across my cheek as he tried to wipe it off.

"Hmph, speak for yourself," I replied with a smile, lightly flicking the blood from my saber and sheathing it. The others joined us, and Neria was looking between the two of us with a faint smile.

"Honestly you two," Wynne shook her head at us exasperatedly.

"What? You did not leave any for me?" Zevran asked, feigning disappointment.

"Oh, there's plenty left for you three," Alistair replied, nodding towards a side tunnel. The main tunnel was blocked, piles of dirt and rock from a cave-in covering the highway, and we could sense darkspawn further in the tunnels.

oooo

True to Alistair's words, the place was crawling with darkspawn – we fought for more than twenty minutes at a time, the creatures seeming to crawl out of the very stone itself. "It seems like we're dealing with the whole Blight ourselves!" I gasped, swinging my saber over my head like a claymore and cleaving a hurlock nearly in two, spraying blood everywhere. _Holy Andraste! Was I always this strong?_ I wondered, staring at the corpse in astonishment. The others didn't seem to notice, and I had to run to catch up with them, still bewildered by what had just happened.

Neria was crouching on top of a raised pillar, firing down at the darkspawn with flaming arrows and covering anyone who looked like they were about to be overwhelmed. Alistair charged through a thick tangle of the creatures, knocking them down with his shield, and Zevran darted about, almost disappearing from view before reappearing behind an enemy, stabbing them in the back. I guarded Wynn while she cast fireballs, the explosions concentrated in a smaller area as she aimed for thick clumps of darkspawn.

We gasped for breath, looking about the silent cave as the last of the darkspawn fell. I glanced about as I heard a low growl and, strange little creatures began streaming out of burrows in the rocks, leaping at us with snarls and shrieks – deepstalkers. "Oh great, more fighting," Alistair muttered, kicking one of the deepstalkers off of him as it latched onto his boot, its tiny claws scratching at his greaves. I stood by Wynne as she raised her staff, calling out an incantation; blue light seemed to seep from her hands and accumulate around the stone in her staff in a glowing nimbus. Suddenly, dozens of shining violet orbs erupted from the stone, seeming to hone in on the deepstalkers. The creatures shrieked as they were struck, some of them falling, and many fleeing in terror. Once she finished her spell, Wynne staggered a little, and I quickly wrapped my arm around her waist, letting her lean against me.

"Careful now. Don't push yourself too hard," I warned, and she nodded, leaning against me until she said she was alright. As we continued on through the tunnels, however, I heard a soft thump behind us, turning around to see Wynne fall flat. "Ah!" I gasped, running over to her and kneeling next to the old woman, helping her sit up.

"Unhh…I…fell…" she said weakly, and I bit my lip, my brow furrowed with worry.

" _Fainted_ , more like. Are you all right?" I asked, and Wynne nodded, getting to her feet and leaning against her staff.

"For a moment there I thought I was…I thought it was all over…" she murmured, a distant look on her face, and my eyes widened in panic.

"You thought _what_ was over?" I asked with dread, and she sighed.

"Everything…" she replied. "I…I will explain everything later. Now is not the time," she insisted, and I made a face, reluctantly nodding as we continued on.

We traveled more carefully after that – I made sure to be less reckless with my fighting, keeping an eye on Wynne whenever she cast a spell. I gasped as we exited the roughly-hewn tunnels, returning to an area that had once been populated; there were still ruins of elaborately carved buildings and walkways, and the cave's roof stretched high into the distance.

"We must have reached the thaig," I observed, glancing back down as I heard shouting up ahead.

"Hold the body! Don't let them make off with another one!" someone yelled, and our group dashed forward, spotting a few armored Dwarves battling a pack of deepstalkers. We leapt into the fray, beating off the sharp-toothed little creatures, and they scattered, shrieking at us as they scurried back into their holes.

"Maker's breath, I remember why I hate those things so much," I sighed, massaging my arm where one of them had managed to bite me. Rolling up my sleeve, I saw a large, round bite-mark, and I made a face. "Ugh, nasty…" I muttered with disgust, watching as Wynne began to tend to the wounded Dwarves – her magic wasn't as effective on them, so she carefully cleaned and wrapped their injuries with bandages she kept on hand.

"You pulled us from a tight spot, friends. You have my gratitude. I am Lord Anwer Dace," Lord Dace introduced himself, bowing his head slightly. He was an older Dwarf, his beard woven into many small braids, decorated with gold rings at the tips that gleamed in the faint light of the cavern. "Please excuse me, but how does an Elf come to be down here, anyway?" the Dwarf asked, and I pulled out the papers Vartag had given me, handing them to him.

"Urgent delivery. Your daughter asked me to find you when I showed her these promissory notes," I explained, and the Dwarf looked at the papers, scowling as he read them over carefully.

"These are the terms of a deal we made with Lord Harrowmont, but…the charlatan! He's promised the exact same land to Helmi!" Lord Dace said, his voice rising with outrage. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I owe you twice now, my life and my house's fortune," the Dwarf thanked us, bowing. "I must return now. My men need healing and I want to look into this. Do you wish to travel with us?" he asked, and I glanced around the group, seeing that Neria, Wynne and Zevran were worn out from the fighting. Alistair and I were still fine…but I supposed that was because of our increased stamina.

"Yes, it would be safer to return together," I replied.

"Then let us reach Orzammar before more beasts find our scent," Lord Dace said. As we returned, I wiped the darkspawn blood off my face with a handkerchief, passing it to Alistair once I was done – we weren't going to head back to Orzammar with our faces covered in blood.

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	25. Chapter 25: The Carta

Chapter 25

The Carta

Author's note:

I've finished proof reading my buffer, so I think I'll post two pages on Saturday, instead of one

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

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"Lady Dace just came through the quarter on a tear. She's telling everyone who'll listen what a leech and a liar Harrowmont is. Good job," Vartag commented on our return, and I nodded, picking a bit of dried darkspawn blood off of my sleeve. "So you were serious about wanting to help us. Are you ready to meet Bhelen now?" he asked, and I made a face.

"I am…not sure my present attire is fit to meet the Prince," I remarked, indicating the blood on my clothes, and Vartag laughed.

"The Prince has seen darkspawn blood before, Warden – it shouldn't be a problem. I warn you, though, be on your best behavior. And keep your weapons sheathed," Vartag added pointedly, opening the palace doors and leading us inside.

The palace was beautifully decorated, with masterfully carved walls, the flowing shapes of the works emphasized with precious metals set with gemstones and lyrium. Vartag led us down a side hall to a large study, where Prince Bhelen was sitting at a stone desk, looking over a messy stack of papers. He glanced up at our approach, giving a polite nod and walking over to us. I bowed slightly, and my companions copied the motion.

"I am impressed, Warden. Not many outsiders so quickly grasp Orzammar's rather…convoluted politics. I can tell you know the way this game is played," the Prince remarked. "I am Prince Bhelen. Vartag told me of your efforts against the usurper who tried to claim my father's throne," he introduced himself. _Hello kin-killer,_ I thought, keeping my expression level as I observed the prince. His resemblance to Duran was striking – not only in appearance, but in the air of nobility and pride about them. _A true nobleman – not like some of the drooling morons the humans have,_ I thought.

"I am Adeline, and these are my companions, Alistair, Zevran, Neria, and Wynne," I introduced us, and the Prince nodded, glancing back at the others briefly before returning his attention to me. He looked at me carefully, stroking a hand over his beard in thought.

"I've heard of you, Warden. You were on one of the scouting parties in the Deep Roads, just after the…incident with my brothers," he remarked, and I barely suppressed a derisive snort. _An incident which you orchestrated,_ I thought. He looked at me attentively, and the tiniest hint of a smile played on his lips. I felt my eyes narrow slightly – I hadn't been careful enough with my expression; he must have seen the spark of distaste in my eyes at his words. "I was also told that you said you were a friend of my family, and bear a signet ring with the Aeducan family crest…yet I do not remember ever having met you."

"You would not have, my Prince. I was a person of little importance then…as much as I am now, I suppose," I said humbly, choosing my words carefully. "You can get things done, more so than Harrowmont; you won't isolate Orzammar and let the Dwarves sit stagnant until the Blight consumes everything," I added, trying to change the subject before things got awkward, and the Prince nodded, his eyes flashing with approval at my words.

"Then we have a common goal. The Blight is our first priority," Bhelen replied. "We need absolute unity to fight against the fulcrum of true evil." _Pretty words…but do you really mean that?_ I bit my tongue as a smart remark threatened to slip through.

"Then you'll honor your agreement with the Wardens?" I asked, and the Prince nodded, clasping his hands at the small of his back and slowly pacing to his desk, placing a hand on some of the documents there.

"Absolutely. And sworn on the mail of my ancestors…as soon as Orzammar is united under my rule," he replied. "Unfortunately, while this debate rages, I have no power to send the troops you need. You've seen for yourself; the city is a slaughterhouse. Criminals run lawless. I could never hold the throne if I allowed such chaos," he explained, and I agreed; I had seen merchants paying 'protection' fees to members of the carta, an organization of casteless thugs that operated out of Dust Town. I had almost gotten mugged by them myself when I was returning to Tapsters one evening – they had learned _very_ quickly not to mess with me.

"What do you have in mind, my Prince?" I asked, and Bhelen looked back at me with steady eyes.

"The carta is behind this bedlam," he said, continuing once he saw that my companions weren't sure who he was talking about. "They're a gang of criminals – mostly casteless – led by a repulsive slug of a woman named Jarvia. They've paid off numerous guardsmen to build their power," he explained with distaste, eyes narrowing at the mention of Jarvia. "They know Orzammar is divided now and has no time for them. It's made them bold," he added. "If I show the city I can eliminate such a threat… Well, let's just say my position would be stronger."

"If you can eliminate them, I promise as king, I will send as many troops as you need to fight the darkspawn," Bhelen vowed, and I nodded. "Unfortunately, I have little information on Jarvia. Her base of power is in Dust Town – the lowest part of the city – and my men have few sources there. Maybe the casteless will talk more freely with a stranger," he said.

"I'll see what I can do," I replied.

"And I will wait eagerly for your return," the Prince said, bidding us farewell as we were escorted out.

As we walked, I glanced at Wynne, who looked better, but still slightly worn from what had happened in the Deep Roads. "Are you feeling a little better now?" I asked, and she looked back at me, smiling slightly at my concern.

"Oh, yes, and thank you for asking. I'm feeling much better," she replied.

"Please let me know if there is anything I can do, Wynne," I insisted, and she chuckled at the worried look in my eyes.

"Well, thank you for your kindness, my dear. It certainly warms these rickety old bones," she sighed. "I…think I owe you an explanation for what happened earlier," she added, and I nodded.

"You had me quite worried," I remarked, and she smiled faintly at my stern tone.

"You should know that…something happened to me at the tower, before you came along," she began, and I raised an eyebrow. "Remember my apprentice, Petra? She encountered a demon in the tower. It would have killed her had I not intervened; I saved her life that day…but I did not survive that encounter with the demon," Wynne explained, and I stared at her, concerned.

 _Is she…really okay?_ I thought, looking at her doubtfully. "Uh. This…case of death is taking a while to kick in, then," I commented wryly, and Wynne sighed, seeing my look.

"Let me explain fully," she said. "I engaged a very powerful demon to rescue Petra. It sapped me of all my energy and will, and left me drained – it took everything I had to defeat it, and when I was done, I no longer had the strength to keep my heart beating. I remember my life ebbing away; everything receded from me…sound, light…I remember being enveloped in complete, impenetrable darkness," Wynne described, and I felt a chill go through me; I had experienced a similar feeling after the battle of Ostagar, when the darkspawn had overwhelmed us in the tower.

"And then I sensed a presence, enfolding me and cradling me, whispering quietly to me," Wynne continued, her tone softer, and her eyes warm. "The sensation is impossible to describe. I was being…held back, firmly, but gently, as a mother would a child eager to slip from her grasp. I felt life and warmth flowing through my veins again. I began to be aware of small sounds, and the discomfort of my hip pressing into the cold stone of the tower floor," Wynne finished, and I stared up at her.

"So…you were never really completely dead then," I reasoned.

"The Fade contains spirits both benevolent and malicious. The benevolent spirits seldom make themselves known, because they want nothing from mortals, unlike the demons; it was one of these spirits that saved me. Without it, I would be dead," Wynne replied. "And it has not left me. It is with me, even now, bonded to me – you see, I am supposed to be dead. It is the spirit that is keeping me in this world, and this is not the way of things. Perhaps the spirit did not expect this but it is weakening, gradually. I am living on borrowed time," Wynne sighed, her eyes a bit sad.

"Then we will make the best of that time," I said firmly.

"Yes, that we will," the old woman replied, heartened by my words. We walked for a few minutes in silence, and I absently looked at the scenery, my eyes moving over the wares in the market stalls – they lingered on a golden mirror with carvings of animals around the edge, and I suddenly thought of Morrigan. _Maybe I'll get that for her,_ I mused – she liked shiny things, and that mirror reminded me of the story she had told me about her first trip out of the Wilds.

"Do you stare at everyone like that?" I heard Neria ask behind me, and I glanced back to see that she was speaking to Zevran.

"Not everyone," he replied. "But a beautiful woman like yourself? Why not? I am sure you draw many stares, from men and even other women," he added, flashing a charming smile at the woman as they walked side-by-side. "Does this bother you?"

"Not in particular, no," Neria replied, folding her hands lightly over the small of her back.

"But you would prefer I desisted, perhaps? It would be difficult, traveling as we do in close proximity, but I am nothing if not a gentleman," Zevran offered, and Neria glanced at him.

"Aw, such a shame. I rather enjoyed the thought of you looking at me," she remarked in a coy tone, and Zevran's grin widened.

"Oh? Then I shall keep that in mind…and perhaps even redouble my efforts," he chuckled, his gaze catching and holding hers as he looked into her bright, blue eyes. "There was a young Elven dancer in Antiva City once, and I believe I actually managed to stare off all seven of her skirts. It's a trick worth retrying," he added, and Neria laughed.

oooo

That evening, after we washed all the darkspawn blood off in one of the bath houses behind the tavern, Alistair and I took a walk through the commons, strolling idly and looking at the scenery. We walked arm in arm, stopping by a small balcony and watching the falls of magma as they poured down from the ceiling. I propped my arms up on the stone shelf, looking at the sea of fire, my hair moving slightly in the updrafts from the magma below.

"So all this time we've spent together…you know, the tragedy, the brushes with death, the constant battles with the whole Blight looming over us…will you…miss it once it's over?" Alistair asked suddenly, leaning over the balcony next to me, and I smirked up at him. I turned a little, leaning with my hip against the stone shelf so that I faced the man.

"It makes me tear up just thinking about it," I replied in a weepy voice, giving a small sniff and wiping at the corner of my eye. Alistair laughed, his eyes shining like ambers as they reflected the light of the fire below, his hair like gold.

"There'll be no more running for our lives. No more darkspawn," he let out a groan, "and no more camping in the middle of nowhere." I chuckled, nodding towards the tavern and crossing my arms, a smirk on my lips.

"I'd hardly call stone beds an improvement," I replied, "but…yes, it'll be nice not to be in constant danger."

"I know it…might sound strange, considering we haven't known each other for very long, but I've come to…care for you. A great deal," Alistair began, and I looked up at him, my eyes widening slightly at the warm look he was giving me. He straightened, moving so that he stood in front of me, his hands on the balcony on either side of me. My heartbeat picked up at his closeness, and I looked up at him with bright eyes. "I think maybe it's because we've gone through so much together, I don't know. Or maybe I'm imagining it. Maybe I'm fooling myself," he sighed, looking down at the magma for a moment before glancing back at me. "Am I? Fooling myself? Or do you think you might ever…feel the same way about me?" he asked quietly.

I felt warmth crawl up my throat and over my ears, and I knitted my fingers together in front of me, glancing down at the floor. "I think I already do," I replied softly, suddenly bashful.

"So I fooled you, did I? Good to know," Alistair said in a low voice. He placed his fingers lightly on my cheek, and I turned my face up, closing my eyes as he pressed his lips against mine. He kissed me gently, and I let out a soft breath as we pressed our foreheads together, his hands resting lightly against my waist as he leaned over me. "That…that wasn't too soon, was it?" Alistair asked gently, and I smiled slightly, looking up at him with bright eyes, placing my hands lightly on his chest.

"I don't know. I need more testing to be sure," I replied, and he smirked.

"Well, I'll have to arrange that, then, won't I?" he murmured, pressing his lips against my temple, kissing my scar. "Maker's breath, but you're beautiful. I am a lucky man," he sighed, brushing my cheek lightly, his fingers gentle as they lingered on my face. He kissed me again, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as the kiss deepened, and he pressed me against the balcony as his arms tightened around my waist. We stood together as we watched the falling magma, wrapped in the other's arms and feeling…safe, for the first time in a long time.

oooo

The next day, Leliana, Neria and I headed to Dust Town on our own – a trio of young women would be far less intimidating than a large group of us tramping through the slums, searching for the carta. I would have brought Morrigan along as well, but Dwarves were resistant to her spells, and I didn't want to put her in pointless danger if someone tried to mug us. And after what happened with Wynne yesterday, I insisted that she should take a little time to rest, despite her insistence that we'd need a healer.

"While three women _are_ less intimidating than if, say, you brought _Sten_ along, won't you be seen as easy targets for criminals?" Alistair asked me as Leliana, Neria and I prepared to leave Tapsters. _That's kind of the point,_ I thought, although I didn't want to mention that aspect of it – he certainly wouldn't be happy about that.

"Oh, you're so _sweet_ when you're worried about me," I teased, pinching his cheek playfully. "We're bringing Olan along too, if it's any consolation," I added, but Alistair still seemed tense. "We'll be _fine_ , Alistair, I promise," I assured him gently, giving him a quick peck before following Leliana, Neria and Olan out of the tavern and down to the slums. Neria glanced back at me, seeing the kiss, and she and Leliana exchanged puckish smirks. "Oh shut up you two," I snorted, giving them each a playful elbow in the ribs as we headed off.

Dust Town was exactly as the name described; the place was filthy, covered in dust and garbage, with ragged, crippled Dwarves lying on the sides of the street, begging for handouts. I tossed a few coppers their way, but my heart hurt at the sight of their suffering. "This…might actually be worse than the Alienage," I murmured, biting my lip as I looked about.

We asked around discreetly about the carta, but any mention of them, or of Jarvia, sent the casteless into a panic. They were terrified of this woman and her crime ring, it seemed, and would tell us in hushed voices not to poke our noses into things we knew nothing about.

"Well, look at that. It's not often ol' Nadezda sees a fine-dressed stranger here in Dust Town. Help a poor cripple?" a middle-aged Dwarf woman said, lying against a pedestal near the middle of the square. I knelt down next to her, glancing around.

"Five silvers for some information," I promised, and she nodded as I gave her two silvers up front.

"What are you looking for?" she asked, mimicking my low tone.

"Jarvia. You know her?" I replied, and she let out a small snort.

"Know her? I used to run with her," Nadezda said, patting her legs, "well, when I _could_ run, anyway. Jarvia took over the carta not more than a year ago, and already she's got every duster with both legs bearing swords for her," the woman explained.

"Does she have a base somewhere?" I asked, and Nadezda nodded.

"Yes, but it's not easy to find. Jarvia's gotten real paranoid; she's got carta members all carrying these finger-bone tokens. She scratches some mark into them, so she'll know they came from her," she described. "There's doors to her base all over the city, but only one is ever open at a time, and if you show up without a token, you'd never know it was there."

"Do you know where someone can find one of these tokens?" I asked, and Nadezda shook her head.

"Can't help you there, salroka. The carta members keep them real tight," she replied. "Now how about that coin you promised?" she added, and I smiled.

"Take care of yourself," I said, passing her ten silvers, and she grinned at me as I stood.

"I'll think of you when I go to bed with a full stomach," she said gratefully. "Wait!" she called, and I glanced back. "I…happened to see some of Jarvia's men go into that house over there – the Brosca's old place," she nodded to a house by the right corner of the square, and I thanked her. I collected Leliana, Neria and Olan, and we headed towards the house, opening the door cautiously, our hands on our weapons.

"Well, look what we have here…" a Dwarf in rusted, mismatched armor grinned, crossing his arms as he spotted us. "Jarvia said you were looking for trouble. Congratulations, you found it." He nodded slightly and gave a short whistle, and Dwarves ran out from the other room, roaring and charging at us with their weapons drawn.

"Maker's breath!" Leliana gasped, leaping back as a hammer smashed down an inch from her foot. She kicked the Dwarf hard in the groin, bashing him over the head with a clay jug from a nearby shelf, laying him out. Olan snarled, charging and ramming into a Dwarf crossbowman, biting the wooden crossbow and snapping it with his powerful teeth. I cracked a Dwarf over the head with the pommel of my dagger, kicking another in the shoulder and hearing a faint pop, the man screaming in pain as I dislocated the joint. Neria drew her dar mi'saan, catching the haft of a Dwarf's axe on the spike midway up her blade's length, disarming the man as she yanked her blade up, wrenching the weapon out of his grip.

In a matter of seconds, the entire force was knocked out, with only the lead Dwarf remaining. He dropped his weapon, holding his hands up as I approached, my eyes gleaming dangerously as they reflected the lamplight. "D-don't kill me! Sodding ancestors, what do they teach you on the surface? You fight like a bleedin' archdemon!" he gasped, staggering backwards and tripping over his unconscious comrades. "Sweet bloody Stone, look at them all!"

"Where is Jarvia?" I demanded, and he shook his head, backing away.

"I can't. You have to understand. Jarvia knows where I live. I-I got a little girl there. I tell you anything, she's the one who'll suffer," he cried out, and I backed him against the wall, running the flat of my knife along his jaw, my eyes hard as ice.

"I have ways of making people talk," I growled, baring my teeth at him, and he nearly fainted with terror. Out of the corner of my eye, I even saw Leliana and Neria look a bit startled, and I wondered why – it wasn't as if I'd never threatened people before.

"The base is below the city. Y-you can get to it through the wall of the third house on this row. Put this token through the slot and it'll open," the Dwarf stammered out, handing me the token when I let him up. "Will…will you let me go now?" he asked, and I glared at him.

"Yes. I wouldn't go anywhere near the hideout if I were you," I added, and he nodded.

"R-really? Oh, thank you. You're a…a good person. How do they say it? The ancestors have shown their favor. Bless you!" he gasped, running off. I sighed, sheathing my knife and rolling the token over my fingers.

"Your teeth…" Leliana said suddenly, and I raised an eyebrow.

"What? What about my teeth?" I asked oddly, and she walked over to me.

"Open your mouth," she prompted, and I gave her a strange look, doing as she said. "Have you been…filing your teeth?" she asked.

"Pff, _what?_ What kind of question is _that?_ " I grinned, laughing at her. "What, are they _pointed_ now or something?" I joked, and she pursed her lips, crossing her arms.

"You have _fangs_ ," Leliana remarked.

"Fangs," I echoed doubtfully. I glanced at Neria, who nodded slightly in assent. I drew my knife, holding it up so I could see my reflection in it, and I opened my mouth, pulling my lip back with a finger. As she said, my canines were abnormally long, and slightly sharper than before. "Huh. When'd _that_ happen?" I murmured absently, shrugging at her. "Hey, I'm just as confused as you are," I replied honestly, seeing the women's questioning looks.

"Well…let's ignore that for now, then. What are we going to do about the carta?" Leliana asked, and I sheathed my knife, crossing my arms.

"They're all going to have to die. They'll come after us otherwise, and I won't put you or anyone else in danger like that," I said firmly, and Leliana looked at me with level eyes.

"I…understand," she replied, taking my hand.

"It's something that has to be done," I replied softly, not liking it any more than she did.

"Well, that's good to hear," a woman's voice spoke, and the three of us whipped our heads around at the sound. A young Dwarf woman with red-brown hair tied up in a bun walked out of the next room with Olan by her side, massaging her wrists. Her eyes were bright, piercing green, and on her left cheek was the mark of a casteless.

"Um…hello?" I tried awkwardly, looking at her with confusion, and she chuckled

"I was expecting Jarvia herself to come through that door, honestly. Not a trio of top-siders," she admitted as she rubbed at her ankles. "Ah, where are my manners?" she added, letting out a laugh and grinning crookedly at us, "the name's Katja Brosca, but most around here know me as 'that bitch with the face-tattoo'. Though I suppose that's what they call most casteless women, anyway," Katja chuckled, and I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Adeline Tabris," I introduced myself, extending a hand in greeting. The casteless woman seemed pleasantly surprised that I wanted to shake hands, and she took my arm in a firm grip. "Brosca. Nadezda mentioned the name – this your place?" I asked, indicating the house, and Katja snorted.

" _Used_ to be, more like. Big sis and Mam have gone Stone knows where, and I've been hiding out in the tunnels since the disaster at the Provings," Katja grumbled, crossing her arms. I noticed now that she had a long scar along her tattoo, cut diagonally across, as if in defiance of the caste system.

"Disaster at the…wait. You're the casteless that beat three of the best warriors in Orzammar?" I exclaimed with surprise, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't expect a top-sider to recognize me. Must have accumulated quite the fan-base while I was gone," she chuckled, and I smiled – she seemed quite friendly, and Olan was trotting around her in a circle, sniffing intently at the Dwarf woman and nuzzling her arms.

"I've spent a bit of time in Orzammar in the past," I explained, and she nodded.

"So, I hear you're after Jarvia?" Katja asked, and I nodded slightly. "She and I have…a colorful history. And a friend of mine is probably in danger because of her…and because of me. I'd go up against her myself but…well, I'm amazing, but not _that_ amazing," she added, cockily twirling the dagger that she kept by her side.

"Well, we _could_ use the help. Especially since she's a local," Neria remarked, and I nodded.

"We'd be happy to have you along, Katja," I welcomed her, and the woman grinned.

"Great. Now let's get the sod out of here before more of Jarvia's men decide to pay me another 'friendly visit'," Katja remarked, sheathing her blade and nodding towards the door. She trotted back to the other room and retrieved a crossbow and a large pouch of bolts before we headed out.

"So what were you doing back there?" Leliana asked her as we walked through Dust Town. "They captured you?" she added, and Katja shrugged.

"Yeah. Bit embarrassing, really," she admitted. "I was sneaking back into the house to grab some supplies, and someone must have spotted me and let Jarvia know. I gave the first pair that showed up what for, but the second wave had, what, _seven_ of them? They swamped me when I fought back and tied me up; if you three hadn't come along, they would have brought me back to Jarvia for…whatever torture she has planned for me," Katja muttered the last part with a dark expression, her green eyes hard in the faint light of the tunnels.

oooo

The five of us headed across Dust Town, finding the door that the Dwarf thug had mentioned on a nearby building, slipping the token into a small slot and hearing it unlock, swinging open. A long, dark corridor stood before us, and we walked quietly through, the heavy door shutting behind us with a click. I opened another door, faint light spilling out from under it, walking into a room full of Dwarf thugs, sitting around playing cards. "Sod." I muttered, staring at them.

"What's the password?" one of them said absently, not looking up from his cards.

"Uh…surrender now or prepare to fight?" I tried, and he glanced up, eyes narrowing when he saw us at the door. Katja snickered, swinging the crossbow off her back and loading a bolt as Neria and Leliana drew their blades, and Olan snarled.

"Looks like we have a martyr, boys," the Dwarf growled, hefting his axe.

The five of us cut them down, along with any other carta members we encountered. Katja glanced around as we made our way through the long halls and tunnels that stretched underneath the city. "Haven't been here in a while. Looks like Jarvia did some redecorating since last time…" she remarked, cocking her head and gazing up at a stone mural on the wall as we paused for a few moments, absently loading her crossbow and taking aim to her right. She didn't bother looking as she fired, and I heard a scream as a carta member rounded the corner, falling with the crossbow bolt in his eye. "Still remember the patrols, though," she added, and I grinned.

"Can we keep her?" Neria asked me eagerly, liking the Dwarf girl as much as I did, apparently. Soon, the base ran red with a river of blood, our blades and armor covered in the liquid. I had a grim set to my face – this was a task that had to be done; I didn't enjoy killing them, like I did with darkspawn, or like the guards in the Arl of Denerim's estate. I really had no grudge against these people…but I had little choice. If I let them live, they would come after me, and my companions, and I couldn't afford to leave enemies like this at my back.

Katja, on the other hand, was grinning and laughing, screaming curses at the Dwarves that attacked us. "Get over here you mossy nug-lickers! The bitch is back!" she shrieked with glee, filling the alarmed Dwarves with crossbow bolts and tossing strange glass balls at them that exploded on impact, letting out blasts of fire, ice, and lightning. "Grenades," she explained when I asked.

"Is it magic?" I asked curiously – I had never seen such contraptions before, and I turned one of the circular glass vials over in my hand, watching the sparks of lightning dancing within the liquid that partially filled the container.

"Of a sort, I guess. The materials you make them with are magicy-type things. I don't ask, I just make them," she remarked, handing me a couple. "Always good to have a few on hand – they're good for crowd-control," she added, and I nodded, thanking her as we continued.

oooo

There weren't just Dwarves against us in the carta's hideout – Dalish Elf mages and Qunari mercenaries were among the carta's ranks, fighting us bitterly as we took them down. We stopped before a large, locked door, panting and covered in blood, the stuff dripping off of our weapons and clothes as we caught our breath.

"This is it. The main hall's past the door, and Jarvia's probably waiting for us with a whole lot of guards," Katja warned, crossing her arms. "Wouldn't be surprised if she gathered whatever's left of the carta in there for a last stand."

"Well it's to be expected," Neria remarked with a shrug, inspecting her armor and dar mi'saan, picking a bit of dried blood off her shoulder.

"I need a bath," I sighed, wiping sweat from my forehead only to smear blood across it.

"Mmph, me too," Leliana replied, flicking some blood off of her knife.

"Wait…" Neria said suddenly, and I glanced up as she walked over. She had an odd look on her face, and she took off a glove, poking my forehead and moving her finger around. "There, perfect," she said once she had finished, and I looked at her strangely.

"What did you…?" I asked, glancing towards Leliana as she laughed.

"This is _literal_ blood writing," Neria chuckled, and I scowled.

"You just drew something on my face, didn't you?" I asked, and she nodded.

"Yes I did. You are unofficially a Dalish Elf," she joked, and I rolled my eyes.

"As long as it's nothing _vulgar_ …"

" _Me_ , write something _vulgar_ on someone's face? For _shame_ , my friend. I am deeply hurt," Neria gasped, placing a hand over her heart, and I scowled.

"I recall you saying the same thing when Daveth woke up after a drunken Summerday celebration, wearing nothing but his small-clothes and covered in kaddis in the shapes of–" I began, and she laughed, shaking her head.

"Ah, good times," she grinned at the memory.

"Ready?" I asked, once we had recovered ourselves a bit, and the others nodded. I picked the lock on the door, swinging the heavy stone slab aside as it hit the wall with a resounding boom, walking into the room and looking around. A proud-looking Dwarf woman in leather armor stood watching me, her arms crossed, the brand of a casteless across her face. Rows of thugs stood by the walls, their weapons at the ready, and Katja raised an eyebrow as she saw a male Dwarf standing next to Jarvia, his dark hair tied into tight braids along his scalp.

"If it isn't our little runaway. Come back to finish the job?" Jarvia drawled, looking at Katja, who crossed her arms, nodding towards the male Dwarf by Jarvia's side.

"Who did you have to kill to make Leske turn on me?" the younger woman countered, and a slow, smug smile spread across Jarvia's lips.

" _Make_ him?" she asked with a laugh, glancing at Leske. "Who do you think suggested going after you? Leske's been licking my feet to get back in favor ever since you crawled out from under Beraht's corpse. When he heard you came back out of the tunnels, he finally had a way to prove his loyalty," Jarvia explained, and Katja looked at the man incredulously.

"How could you trust her after what Beraht did to us?" she asked, and Leske scoffed at her, shaking his head.

"You messed with his plan! He lost _thousands_ of sovereigns because of us. What else could he do?" he retorted, and Katja narrowed her eyes at the pair of Dwarves. I could almost feel the anger and hurt from her friend's betrayal, and she drew her knife with her left hand, crossbow in her right.

"You'll die for what you did!" she growled, and Jarvia laughed.

"When you taste my steel, think of Beraht. Even in death, he has his vengeance!" Jarvia yelled, giving a signal to the other carta members, the Dwarf thugs charging us with drawn weapons, bellowing war-cries.

I shoved Leliana aside as we were swarmed, getting crushed by the heavily armored Dwarves as they dog-piled the rest of us. Leliana ran to the edge of the room, hurriedly firing into the crowd of Dwarves as we struggled to push them off. "Get…OFF!" I roared, stabbing at them and managing to squirm out of the pile with Neria. Katja had was able to evade the Dwarves, and I could see her battling toe-to-toe with Leske, screaming curses of rage at the man as they exchanged a flurry of blows.

Jarvia was suddenly beside me, her blade sliding a centimeter past my ribcage as I just managed to block her, my saber pressed against my leather vest. Neria dashed back with her dar mi'saan at the ready, keeping Dwarf thugs off my back with Olan and Leliana as the leader of the carta and I began our deadly dance.

We leapt back, circling each other slowly, the Dwarf woman's eyes burning with unbridled hatred and rage – she would give this her all, for she had nothing left to lose. I charged her, my knife and saber flashing in the faint, orange glow of the room, and Jarvia matched me blow for blow. What she lacked in speed, she more than made up for in experience – we were evenly matched, and I could see that the longer this fight was drawn out, the more likely she was to come out on top, waiting for me to slip up so she could strike.

Jarvia leapt back as I gave a sharp kick to her kneecap, and she put a few feet between us, reacting faster than I had expected. She grabbed a stiletto from a strap at her thigh, throwing it at my face and just missing my cheek as I managed to shift away. I grabbed a Dwarf as he tried to swing his hammer at my back, hurling him at Jarvia, who rolled out of the way as the man crashed into a barrel of oil, screaming as a tripwire broke and the whole thing burst into flames.

"Raaa!" Jarvia screamed, charging at me. _No, that's wrong; she's a rogue – she wouldn't charge me head on like that_ , I thought, tensing as she neared. She pulled a small, round object from a pouch at her hip, throwing it at my feet. _Sod! Grenade!_ I thought as I leapt back at the sound of shattering glass, and thick, yellow smoke billowed up around me, blinding me and making it hard to breathe. _Damn, is it poison?_ I wondered, sheathing my knife and covering my mouth, trying not to breathe in the gas.

I coughed, holding my breath as my eyes streamed with tears, burning from the smoke as the stench of sulfur deadened my nose. I shut my eyes as they stung, trying to keep calm and relaxing my stance. _She's trying to frighten you – frightened people make mistakes, and she wants to throw you off balance._ I listened intently, ignoring the others as they called for me.

The tiniest rustle of leather to my right caught my attention, and I opened my eyes, whipping around and swinging my saber in both hands with all my strength, cutting Jarvia in half, her upper body toppling down as she stared at me in shock. Her lower half seemed to tremble for a moment before the knees buckled, and her legs collapsed.

"Maker's _mercy_ Adeline!" Leliana gasped, seeing what I had done once the smoke had cleared.

"Sweet bleeding _Stone_. I've never seen a sodding _Elf_ cut someone in half like that!" Katja exclaimed, caught between surprise and mirth as she laughed.

"…I…I don't know my own strength," I murmured in shock, sliding my hand over my forehead and staring down at Jarvia's body. _What's happening to me?_ I wondered, disturbed by this. I shook my head, looking around at the others to make sure they were alright. Once I saw that they were, we headed up a set of stairs and into a side room, investigating a bit.

We went through Jarvia's office, finding some rags and wiping the blood off of our clothes and faces as best as we could – we still looked like we had just murdered the entire carta, regardless. Katja was quiet as we searched, and had a troubled look on her face. As the others continued looking around, I brought her to the side, looking at her quietly.

"Are you alright?" I asked softly, and she shrugged.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just learned that my best friend would stab me in the back for a couple of bits, but besides that, I'm good," she said sarcastically, and I glanced down.

"Um, sorry. That was insensitive of me," I replied, and she snorted.

"No you're just concerned. I'll get over it…eventually," Katja said. "It's just a bit of a shock. I thought that Leske would always be there for me. Ah, but I can't say I blame him, exactly," she added with a sigh. "I sort of threw him to the deepstalkers when I killed Beraht – when we were running, I didn't notice that he was grabbed until I was already deep in the mines. By that point, a rescue attempt would have been suicide…" she trailed off, closing her eyes and leaning against the wall, shaking her head, "but I guess I should have tried, at least. That's the loyalty of the casteless for you," she snorted, "we're just in it for ourselves."

I was quiet for a few moments before shaking my head. "I don't believe that. And I don't think you do, either," I remarked, letting her think over my words. The five of us went back to the main room, finding a side door and entering a tunnel, following it as it slowly climbed upwards, twisting around in a loop until it came to a large stone shelf.

"Can we push that aside?" Leliana wondered, peeking through a small gap between the wall and the shelf. "It looks like we're inside a building," she added, and we braced ourselves against the stone, telling Olan to stand back in case it fell.

"Rrrr!" I growled, shoving the shelf hard, and I felt it tip.

"Maker's breath!" Leliana gasped – we had intended to slide the shelf out, not knock it over. The whole thing fell with a resounding boom, and we stood staring at it, flinching as we heard someone yell from inside the building.

"Gah! By all the beards of my ancestors! How did you…where did you _come_ from?" a terrified Dwarf man gasped, grabbing his hair in panic and staring at the strange group of women that stood in the tunnel before him.

"Um…sorry?" I tried, looking awkwardly at the stone shelf.

"Y-you made a hole in my wall!" he screamed, staring at the dark tunnel behind us as our group walked sheepishly into his shop, covered in blood and dust, our hair sticking up wildly.

"So that leads to the carta's hideout," Katja interrupted him, pointing with her thumb at the hole, and the Dwarf's eyes widened.

"It…it does? Oh, sod it. If people find out about this, my business will be ruined! They'll think _I_ have something to do with Jarvia!" he gasped, grabbing at his hair again in panic.

"If it's any consolation, Jarvia's dead," Neria tried, and he stared at the Elf with round eyes.

"Dead? How? Did you…you _did_ , didn't you? You killed her! And then you climbed out of there into _my_ shop," he gaped, just noticing the blood on our clothes now. "Aw, just leave me alone. I don't want anything to do with this. And if anyone comes asking, I'm gonna tell them _you_ did it!" he threw his hands in the air in defeat.

I glanced at him, shrugging at the others. We bent down, struggling and lifting the shelf off the ground and setting it carefully back into place. "Shall we?" I asked once we were done, indicating the door, and they nodded. It must have been very late at night, or very early in the morning – no one was out in the commons as we walked out of the smith's store.

oooo

"Maker's breath, how do you always end up covered in blood? Do I even _want_ to ask what happened to the carta?" Alistair groaned, seeing our blood-soaked armor as we entered Tapsters. "And I see you've picked up a new friend," he added, glancing at Katja, who smiled slightly.

"What time is it?" I asked – the tavern was empty too.

"Very early morning. You were gone _all_ day," he replied. His eyes were bloodshot, and dark circles were under them.

"Alistair, did you stay up waiting for us?" I asked with a sigh, walking over to him.

"The others did too – they're out looking for you now. By all that blood, though, I take it you've killed Jarvia?" he asked, and I nodded. He stood slowly, wrapping his arms around me and hugging me tightly.

"Alistair, you'll get blood on you," I said with a small laugh, trying to push him off, and he let out a soft breath as he held me tighter, pressing his lips against my forehead.

"Like I care," he murmured, raising my chin and kissing me. I shut my eyes, pressing my hands against his chest as the kiss deepened, feeling his heart beating under my fingers. I heard Neria chuckling softly behind me as Katja said, 'aw, how cute' in a teasing voice, and Leliana murmured 'my, how scandalous,' in a cheerful tone. "Even if you tell me not to, I still worry about you," Alistair breathed, resting his chin on my head as I lay my cheek against his collarbone, eyes still closed.

"I'm sorry," I apologized.

The others returned shortly afterwards, asking if we were alright. Wynne treated our injuries, lecturing us about being too reckless, and Zevran wondered if we found anything of worth in the carta's lair. After I introduced Katja to everyone – it seemed she wanted to stick around with us for a bit – we washed the blood out of our clothes and hair, hanging our armor up to dry.

"I hope Bhelen doesn't need much more from us – I'm going to be seeing Jarvia in my nightmares tonight," I muttered to Leliana, who nodded warily; we fell asleep as soon as we hit the beds, not caring how uncomfortable to stone felt against our aching bodies.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

And here's Katja Brosca, my Dwarf Commoner Warden. She carries a crossbow, 'Gunnhild', and uses daggers and grenades for close and mid-range.


	26. Chapter 26: The Deep Roads

Chapter 26

The Deep Roads

Author's note:

Orzammar…you're killing me…

Also, thank you, Kahoko, for the wonderful review - it makes me happy to know people are enjoying the story so far

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The next day, our entire company went to the Diamond Quarter as I went to report to Bhelen. Katja looked around the place with big eyes, explaining that she had never been allowed up here; we had had to argue with the guards by the gate to let her in, reasoning that she was in my company, and even then, the guards had given the casteless woman wary looks, muttering 'no-good brand' under their breath as she passed.

"Eh, I'm used to it," she shrugged when she saw my look of concern. As we neared the palace, a pretty Dwarf woman with reddish-brown hair and fine clothes and jewelry greeted us. She looked different from most of the other nobles, and I realized why – she had the brand of a casteless on her cheek.

"Stone-met strangers," she said politely as we neared, "I've heard that you're helping my Prince. For that I am…" she trailed off as her eyes moved over our group, stopping as she saw Katja. "By the Stone! _Katja?_ " she gasped, her eyes wide with shock.

"Hey sis," Katja waved, smiling slightly as her sister covered her mouth, her fingers trembling.

"When I heard what happened after the disaster at the Provings…I never thought I'd see you again!" she laughed, almost in tears, "and with quite the unusual entourage…" she added, glancing back up at us.

"Is that really you under all those jewels, Rica?" Katja teased, a broad grin on her face, and Rica laughed, wiping hurriedly at her eyes and walking up to her sister, gripping her hands tightly, as if to make sure she was really there.

"Can you imagine? As of last month, I'm a royal concubine to House Aeducan. They've moved Mother and me into the palace," she explained, and Katja raised an eyebrow, slightly confused by this news. "You could fit our whole neighborhood just in the bathing room! I wish you could meet little Endrin. But they don't let me bring him outside the royal nursery," Rica sighed, and Katja's eyes widened with realization.

"You…you're a _mother?_ " she asked, and Rica nodded excitedly.

"Little Endrin was born right before his grandfather died. His grandfather, the _king_. Can you believe it? My son is an Aeducan. The future king of Orzammar spends his nights in my bed," Rica said, and Katja stared at her in shock. "Beraht was a toad, but I have to thank him for teaching me to read, dance, massage, and whatever else Bhelen sees in me."

"Wait, then…are you going to be queen?" Katja asked, almost incredulously, and Rica shook her head, giving a small snort.

"Of course not – his wife will be queen. But my son is a _prince_. Your _nephew_ could sit on the throne of Orzammar," she replied. "It's been a little scary, I have to confess," Rica added, letting go of her sister's hands and crossing her arms. "Some people are so angry with Bhelen…they'd come after us if they could. Is this why your friends are here? All the news from the surface says terrible things are happening. Darkspawn attacks and a civil war among the humans," she asked, glancing up at me as I stood nearby, not wanting to interrupt a family moment.

"We need Orzammar to support the Wardens," I replied simply, and Rica nodded.

"And I'm sure the Assembly would agree if they weren't busy arguing the succession. I hate this! Until there's a king, the Assembly would let the world collapse rather than bow to anyone's better judgment," she sighed, shaking her head. "But…I can introduce you to Vartag Gavorn. He's Bhelen's chief lieutenant. He could help you if anyone could," she added.

"Yes, we were on the way to see him and your prince, actually. Katja, do you want to stay?" I asked, glancing at the woman, but she shook her head.

"Nah. Sis can handle herself. And I'd like to meet my new brother," Katja replied with a crooked grin.

"Alright. It was nice meeting you, Rica," I said politely, giving the woman a respectful nod.

"Stone guide yours steps, Wardens. Good luck little sister," Rica said, holding a hand up in farewell. She looked at Katja for a few moments, as if wanting to say something else, but instead, she threw her arms around her sister, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Aw…I love you too, sis," Katja teased, patting her sister's back. They hugged for a few moments before we nodded in farewell, entering the palace.

"It sounded like you haven't seen each other for a while," Neria remarked, and Katja nodded.

"Yeah. I've been hiding in the mines and tunnels for months now. She probably thought I was dead," Katja replied with a soft sigh. As we headed further into the palace, I glanced over as Katja made a disgusted sound. "Ah fuck," she muttered, and I paused, seeing an older woman storming towards us, stopping right in front of Katja and throwing her the most spiteful, angry look I had ever seen.

"Well, look at you all fancied up. You find some princeling to give you pretty clothes while he sticks it to you, like your sister?" the woman hissed, narrowing her eyes as her gaze raked over our company. I immediately felt immensely uncomfortable around this woman, but Katja simply crossed her arms, letting out a long sigh.

"Missed you too, Mam," she said wryly, and the woman scoffed.

"Why would I miss you? What'd you ever do but make me fat and old and ugly? Disappearing like your good for nothing _father_. Probably struck it rich with these surfacers. Never thought to share a little of that fortune with your mother?" The woman was…really something. I had to give her that; I had never seen someone be so belligerently accusatory and yet whine so annoyingly at the same time. That took talent.

"You're living in a sodding _palace_ for Stone's sake!" Katja retorted, her tone incredulous as she waved an arm around, indicating the grand hall.

"I've seen how they look at me. Think I'm gutter trash. Not one of them would let me step foot here if it wasn't for Rica! Precious Rica and her precious little brat! If he chokes on that gold rattle, we'd both be on the street!" the woman snarled, and Katja's demeanor changed. Instead of ignoring her mother's words, she narrowed her eyes, taking a step forward and speaking in a low, threatening voice, layered with anger.

"Rica's happy. Don't you _dare_ ruin that," she snarled, and the woman scowled at her.

"Oh, precious _Rica_. What's she done besides getting herself knocked up? I had two worthless _brats_ and no one ever gave _me_ the time of day for it. I deserve what she got! And more! And don't you tell me any different!" the woman nearly screeched, and Katja shook her head, turning around and simply walking away. I honestly couldn't blame her.

"We have more in common than I thought…" I heard Morrigan murmur as we continued down the hall, listening to the woman complaining to some servants as we left.

oooo

"Well, you've simply outdone yourself," Prince Bhelen said, impressed. "They're talking all over the city about how someone finally went through Dust Town and slaughtered the carta like genlocks," he added.

"I did what you asked," I replied shortly, trying to stay polite despite my aggravation – I took no joy in killing those men, many of whom had little choice in joining the carta, and Bhelen could sense my tension, and my distaste.

"You have done the city a great service. I promise, as soon as I take the throne, I will send the troops you need," he said, and I nodded. When he said nothing else, I let out the tiniest breath, controlling my expression.

"What will you have me do now, my Prince?" I asked, trying not to grind my teeth in annoyance. _I swear, if he makes us go into the Deep Roads…_

"Killing Jarvia brought me greater favor, but to truly displace Harrowmont, we'll need something dramatic enough to end the debate forever," Bhelen explained, walking over to his desk and rifling through some papers, looking for something. "What do you know of the Paragon Branka?" he asked, and I blinked in surprise.

"Just the name, and that she disappeared into the Deep Roads two years ago," I replied, not liking where this was going.

"She is the only Paragon in four generations and she turned her back on her responsibilities," the Prince began. "A Paragon is like an ancestor born in this time. If she returned, her vote would outweigh the entire Assembly. Anyone with her support could take the throne unchallenged," he explained. _Aaauuagh! Sodding hell!_ I kept my expression perfectly still, nodding amicably.

"Do you think she's even still alive?" I asked, and Bhelen shrugged.

"She had an entire house with her, dedicated to her protection. With the number of ruins still intact, they could last for a long time," he replied. "And Harrowmont is looking as well. It's too risky to assume she's dead, only to have him take credit for finding her." The Prince shifted more papers, finding the one he needed and taking a pen and ink, scrawling something down on the page with a faint scratching sound.

"Very well. Do you know where we should search?" I asked, and Bhelen nodded, motioning for me to join him at his desk, pointing to a spot on a map of the Deep Roads. He had circled a symbol on the map; it looked like a crossroad.

"So far, my men have traced Branka to Caridin's Cross – an ancient crossroad lost to the darkspawn four centuries ago," he explained. "You should know the way – I hear you were in one of the expeditions I sent out," he added, and I raised an eyebrow. _Ah, that's right – they_ _ **were**_ _looking for Caridin's Cross,_ I recalled, nodding slightly. "Her trail ends there. Perhaps with your Warden's expertise, you can find what my men could not." _Right. Warden's expertise my arse._

"I shall set out immediately," I replied, bowing respectfully.

"You have my thanks. Seek her in Caridin's Cross. I will try to delay the vote until you return," Bhelen said, shaking my hand and giving me the map.

oOo

Oghren sat up, letting out a long breath and running a hand through his hair, staring at the stone walls around him. He was in a back alley, swatting away a curious nug that was sniffing at his hand. "Away, mud-splasher – you're looking mighty tasty to me right about now," he threatened, and the nug squealed and trotted off.

Oghren closed his eyes, trying to remember what he had been doing as he massaged his eye sockets. He had been drinking at the tavern – but not Tapsters, since Corra had temporarily banned him; 'special guests' she had said – she didn't want him scaring away some skittish top-siders, or whatever slag she'd been talking about. Oghren couldn't remember exactly what it was that made these people so important, and in all honesty, he didn't give a sod.

He remembered, vaguely, getting into a fight with some mercenaries after getting piss-drunk again, and the barkeep had thrown him into the alley behind the pub. He didn't quite remember what they had said that had gotten under his skin, but he got the feeling that it was about Branka.

 _Branka_ … A wave of guilt crashed over the Dwarf as he got to his feet, leaning against a wall. He wondered, sometimes, if he could have done something different. If he had pushed her away, when he should have supported her. Maybe if he had been a better husband, she would have stayed. Or maybe she would have taken him with her.

Oghren straightened himself, patting down his clothes as he headed back to one of his old haunts. He had kept a bit of armor and an axe locked away, in case he ever found an opportunity to go after Branka in the Deep Roads, and now, that opportunity had presented itself. He had heard – before the drinks had completely washed out his senses – that there were Grey Wardens in Orzammar; if anyone could get into the Deep Roads, it would be them.

But he had to have a backup plan, he thought, once he gathered his equipment, strapping on the old red-steel armor and hanging his battleaxe over his back. _The Mad Elf,_ he thought, letting out a low chuckle. Rumors had started up around Orzammar a few months back about some lunatic; a lone Elf lass, with no armor, and carrying nothing but a pair of daggers, had convinced the guards to let her into the Deep Roads. Oghren had heard that she had come back more than a week later, covered in darkspawn blood, but without a scratch on her. He even heard that she was back in the city _now_ , of all times. He couldn't believe his luck – not one, but _two_ opportunities to get to the Deep Roads.

 _Branka,_ he thought, _here I come._

oOo

"Morrigan, don't even say it. I can sense your glare," I sighed as we walked, heading down towards the Deep Roads. She didn't say anything, but continued to glower icily at my back, her yellow eyes stabbing accusingly into me – apparently she didn't like that I was dragging her into the Deep Roads to search for an expedition that may or may not be there. _Maker's breath she's pissed. I hope I can make it up to her later._ I paused by the barricades as the guards opened them for us, looking over the map. The others stood a little ways off, glancing back when I didn't follow.

"What's wrong?" Alistair asked.

"Uh, nothing. I thought I forgot something," I replied, catching up with them. "Oh, wait, _now_ I remember," I sighed, making a face. "Here, go on a head without me, I'll catch up – I remember the way back to the Aeducan thaig, at least," I said, handing the others a map before trotting back out of the tunnel.

I headed back to the market, picking up a few lyrium potions – I wanted to have a few handy in case Wynne had to cast a strong spell again, so she wouldn't feel so drained. As I headed towards the tunnels, I paused, glancing back up the stairs as I heard the clank of metal armor behind me.

"Is that…?" I murmured, spotting a red-haired Dwarf trotting towards me, his large battleaxe clanking against his armor, braided beard swinging wildly as he nearly fell down the steps, taking them two at a time.

"Stranger! Have you seen a Grey Warden hereabouts?" Oghren asked frantically, pausing with his hands on his knees to catch his breath – he must have run all the way here, and in full Dwarven plate. "I heard tell that he…or was that she – you understand, this was several flagons ago – was setting out to search for Branka on the prince's own orders." _Damn, word travels_ _ **fast**_ _here! Didn't we_ _ **just**_ _leave the Diamond Quarter?_

"…what does this Grey Warden look like?" I asked, trying to bite back a smile – he didn't recognize me at all, it seemed. _I suppose that makes sense – he was completely out of it._

"Stout and muscular, fair of face, but with a strong jaw and a bold nose, surrounded by a great glowing nimbus," he described dramatically, straightening as he regained himself. The smell of alcohol permeated the air about him in a cloud, and I tried not to wrinkle my nose at the overwhelming smell. _He's been drinking again. Lovely._ "If she's a woman, she might be more slight, but her eyes will shine with the light of purity and her large but chaste bosom will heave magnificently." I almost snorted at his descriptions, trying not to roll my eyes at the Dwarf. "I've been looking for hours, but I haven't seen anyone who looks like that. Very frustrating."

"Um…I haven't seen anyone who looks like that, either. I'd imagine something like that would be quite the spectacle," I remarked, and Oghren looked back at me.

"Hey, hold off there. What are you doing going for the Deep Roads by yourself?" he asked, crossing his arms and looking me over. "Only warriors in approved scouting parties and those with direct permission from the Assembly can exit here," he added. He stared at me in silence, seeming to realize something when he looked me over, eyes lingering on my ears. "Wait, you're the Mad Elf, aren't you?" he observed, and I sighed.

"Such a charming nickname I've been given," I remarked, and he continued to look at me, glancing around before returning his attention to me. He seemed almost intrigued; I wondered what sorts of rumors were going through Orzammar about the 'Mad Elf'. I crossed my arms, letting out a small cough and bringing him back into focus. "Is there something you needed?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Can I ask you a favor?" he replied, and I snorted.

"Why not? Everyone _else_ does," I muttered, but he ignored my sardonic tone, carrying on.

"Name's Oghren, and if you've ever heard of me before, it's probably all been about how I piss ale and kill little boys who look at me wrong," he laughed harshly, and I raised an eyebrow. "And that's mostly true, but the part they never say is how I'm the only one still trying to save our only Paragon," he added. "I heard you convinced the guards to let you into the Deep Roads. I need to get past," he continued, and I smirked.

"So you think that they'll just let us through?" I asked, and he snorted.

"Isn't that what happened the first time?" he remarked, and I shook my head.

"I don't know what rumors are going around, but I had to wait a week for a certified expedition to come along, and even then, they barely let me come," I explained, and he looked at me with disappointment, his eyes moving towards the tunnels.

"Well sod, now I have to wait for those Grey Wardens everyone's talking about," he muttered, and I grinned.

"Oh, I don't know about that. The descriptions you've been given of us are terribly inaccurate," I remarked, and he looked back at me, realizing what I was saying.

"Why didn't you say something sooner," he grumbled, and I shrugged. He muttered something under his breath before scratching his chin. "Well, Warden, if you're looking for Branka, I'm the only one who knows what she was looking for, which might be pretty sodding helpful in finding her," Oghren continued.

"I heard she was looking for some ancient technology," I replied, and he nodded.

"Aye. Lots of folks know that, but you don't know _what_ , right?" the Dwarf asked, and I shook my head. "I know what Branka wanted and how she was looking. You, presumably, know everything Bhelen's scouts have discovered about where she disappeared. If we pool our knowledge, we stand a chance of finding Branka. Otherwise, good sodding luck," Oghren grunted.

"As if I don't have enough armed lunatics following me already…" I muttered sarcastically.

"Perfect. What's one more?" Oghren grinned crookedly. "Branka was a brilliant girl, but half the time she'd add two and two and make it fifty. You want to find her, you need someone who knows how she thinks," he added, tapping the side of his head, and I pursed my lips.

"You…don't even know me. How do you know you can trust me?" I asked, and the Dwarf snorted, scowling up at me.

"Ach! I'm not some sodding Elf maiden who sits around and waits for a passing hero to solve my problems. I'm a bloody warrior!" he growled, getting impatient. "I mean to get her back, and you wouldn't be down here if you weren't trying for the same thing," he added. "Branka was looking for the Anvil of the Void. Might have been the most important invention in Orzammar's history," Oghren said, and my eyes widened in surprise: Bhelen had _conveniently_ left that part out, it seemed.

"The smith Caridin built it, and with it, Orzammar had a hundred years of peace, while it was protected by the golems forged on the Anvil. As far as anyone knows, the Anvil was built in the old Ortan Thaig," he explained, and I nodded – I had heard about the golems the Dwarves used, but they were a rarity, now, since no one alive today knew how to make them. "Branka planned to start looking there, if she could ever find it. All she knew was that it was past Caridin's Cross. No one's seen that thaig for five hundred years," Oghren added.

"Wait…weren't you married to her? Why aren't you out there with Branka?" I asked, and Oghren muttered something under his breath.

"Why do you sodding _think?_ She left me! Ran off and took our entire sodding house on her mad quest for the Anvil," he retorted. "It was a stupid move. If I'd been with her, she'd have made it back years ago," he snorted. "But I forgive her," he added with a small sigh, his tone subdued.

"We'll find it, Oghren; Bhelen gave me a map. I can get you to Caridin's Cross," I said, and Oghren's eyes widened as I unfolded the paper, handing it to him – Bhelen had given me a few copies of the same map, in case the papers got damaged while we were fighting darkspawn. He gave a grunt of affirmation, handing back the map and nodding towards the Deep Roads.

"If we're going, let's get moving. Branka's not going to sodding find herself," he prompted.

"Right," I said. Oghren and I walked into the Deep Roads as the guards closed the barricades behind us, shaking their heads and calling us mad as we disappeared into the tunnels. "I'm Adeline, by the way," I introduced myself, and Oghren grunted absently. _Not here to chat, I guess,_ I thought, not taking it personally.

We walked through the tunnels, trying to catch up to the others as I retraced our steps from the other day. The group was waiting a little ways off, giving me questioning looks as they saw Oghren. "Uh…this is Oghren, everyone. He's Branka's husband – he wants to help us find her," I explained. "This is the last one, I swear," I whispered hurriedly to Morrigan, who simply rolled her eyes at me as we continued on.

As we walked, I noticed that Oghren made a point to position himself near Katja. "Is your mother a nug?" he asked the woman, and she turned to look at him in bewilderment.

"Excuse me?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"Because I think I need that rump-roast with extra sauce," Oghren continued, and Katja let out a groan.

"By the bloody Stone…" she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Alright. To preempt any more of your – _horrible_ – pickup lines and unwanted advances, know this; I prefer the company of women," Katja said, giving Oghren a pointed look.

"Heh…hot," the Dwarf replied, not phased in the least. Katja gave him a withering look, muttering under her breath and moving so that she was walking on my other side, next to Leliana and Olan.

We headed down the paved highway, the corpses of the darkspawn we had killed the other day still here, partially eaten by deepstalkers. "By the ancestors, who killed all of these darkspawn? The Legion hasn't been to Orzammar this recently," Oghren wondered, and Zevran laughed, nodding towards Alistair and myself as we walked a little ways ahead, keeping an eye out for more groups of darkspawn.

"Our Wardens over there. It was quite a sight, I must tell you," he complimented, and I rolled my eyes.

"Flattery, Zevran?" I smiled, and he laughed. Oghren grunted, stepping over one of the bodies carefully. He seemed lost in thought as he looked around the cavern, absently stroking one of the braids that hung from his beard. We walked down the same tunnels as we had the other day, heading towards the Aeducan thaig we had found Lord Dace exploring.

"Huh. No weird worm-headed things this time?" Neria asked, looking around with surprise – we could hear a few of them, just out of sight, but they were cowering in their holes as we passed.

"You mean deepstalkers?" Katja asked, and Neria nodded.

"Yeah. Those things," she replied.

"You must have really terrified them," I remarked, glancing back toward Wynne as she kept her guard up, glaring suspiciously at the deepstalker burrows.

"Perhaps. I would not lower my guard here, though," she replied, and I nodded.

"True," I sighed, fingering the handle of my blade as we passed through the Aeducan thaig, keeping an eye out for any danger. I took the lead with Olan, the mabari sniffing curiously as we walked, and I listened as Oghren spoke up behind me.

"You know what would do you some good?" he asked, speaking to Alistair, who made a face.

"A pair of nose plugs?" he replied wryly, and the Dwarf snorted.

"Go out, find a girl. Doesn't matter who, as long as there's no pants involved," the Dwarf rumbled. _Whoa, where'd_ _ **that**_ _come from?_ I wondered, raising my eyebrow but keeping my face forward as we walked.

"What makes you think I haven't?" Alistair asked defensively, and I bit back a smirk, trying not to laugh at the two.

"I can smell purity a mile away. It's a talent," Oghren replied.

"That proves to be useful, I'm sure," Alistair muttered sardonically, and the Dwarf grunted, shrugging.

"Not that often, it turns out. Be much better if I could smell cheese," he replied, taking a swig from a flask he carried at his hip.

"You have my deepest condolences," Alistair said sarcastically.

"Yep. So do you," the Dwarf chuckled.

oooo

We traveled through the tunnels for hours, encountering only one or two darkspawn scouts – Leliana, Neria and Katja took them out from a distance as they ran, perhaps trying to warn other darkspawn of our approach. "I don't like this. The tunnels were crawling with darkspawn the other day, and now there're hardly any," I muttered, looking around warily.

"They _do_ say that the Deep Roads are safer to travel through during a Blight," Alistair replied, still tense as well. Jowan was crouching nearby, leaning over the body of one of the darkspawn as we took a short break, and I walked over to him, shuffling my feet slightly so that he heard my approach.

"Mmm? Oh, hello," Jowan greeted, glancing up briefly from where he was taking notes in a small book.

"What're you doing?" I asked curiously, kneeling next to him. I saw that he had taken out a few vials, collecting samples of the darkspawn blood.

"An experiment. When we've set up camp, or returned to Orzammar, I want to run a few tests on this blood," he replied, showing me one of the vials.

"For your magic?" I guessed, and he nodded.

"I'm wondering about the taint. I was thinking that maybe I can use the darkspawn's own magic against them – they use magic I've never seen before, but it's old, and powerful," he explained, and I nodded, listening intently.

"So you want to figure out how the taint works?" I asked.

"Yes. And maybe I can…I don't know, try to find a cure or something? I read about the Blight sickness in history books back in the Circle. I'm wondering if maybe my blood magic can do some good," Jowan mused, and I smiled.

"It's good to see you're feeling a little more confident about this – I've yet to see you use anything resembling blood magic," I remarked, and he sighed.

"Because I _haven't_ been using it," he replied, standing as the others prepared to go, tucking the vials of blood away carefully. "Not with Wynne around. I don't want her to think I've turned on you," Jowan murmured, and I pursed my lips.

"Has she said anything to you?" I asked softly, and the mage shook his head.

"No…but she doesn't have to. She doesn't trust me. Neither does Alistair," Jowan murmured, and I sighed.

"I can't force them to trust you…but I can ask them to maybe…" I trailed off, not really sure what I could do.

"No. I need to earn their trust. But thank you for your concern," Jowan replied, patting my arm gently, and I smiled slightly.

"You're a good sort, Jowan. They just need to see that," I said encouragingly, and he nodded, looking slightly more confident as we rejoined the others.

We came to a large, open cave, the ceiling stretching away into darkness above us. In the distance I could see large bonfires glowing with dark forms moving about in front of the flames, their shadows spreading across the ground in long, frightening shapes. "Darkspawn ahead," Alistair warned, sensing them nearby. I could sense them too, but I looked about in puzzlement – there were darkspawn very close by, but I couldn't see them.

"I can see the ones over there, but where are–" I was cut off as the ground beneath my feet burst, followed by a high-pitched shriek. A lanky, hunch-backed darkspawn leapt from the ground, clawing at me and letting out a deafening scream in my face as it pinned me down.

"Shut that thing up!" Oghren roared, swinging his axe and lopping the darkspawn's head off. I struggled to get to my feet, wobbling dizzily from the force of the scream, my ears ringing. I was seeing double of everything, and I sat down hard, gripping my head in my hands.

"W-what?" I asked, looking up as someone shook my shoulder. Leliana was trying to say something to me, and I stuck a finger in my ear, wiggling it around; there was only silence, and when I pulled it out, there was blood on my glove. "I can't hear you," I replied, and she made a face. Reading her lips, I saw that she wanted me to keep my voice down, pointing back towards the fires in the distance. Wynne knelt next to me, and I felt a cool wave of healing magic washing over my throbbing eardrums.

The other darkspawn had apparently heard the shrieking as well – it would be hard not to, honestly – and were making their way towards us. Once they had neared a bit, they picked up their pace, spotting us as we stood around the dead darkspawn. I drew my saber and tried to stand up; I was still dizzy from the scream, and Wynne grabbed my shoulder, positioning herself in front of me, with Sten at my side, indicating that I should stay down.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, shaking my head and tapping at my ears, hoping my hearing hadn't been permanently damaged; despite Wynne's healing spell, I still couldn't hear. I watched as the others fought, impressed by Oghren; he was drunk, but he was still taking down as many darkspawn as the others, if not more.

Jowan raised his hands in the air, and I felt Wynne stiffen beside me – he must have been using blood magic. I saw a pair of genlocks running towards them, and he narrowed his eyes, pointing his hands at them, clenching his fists. Long, crystalline spikes suddenly burst from the darkspawn's bodies, and they toppled over, looking like pincushions. Upon further inspection, I noticed that the spikes were deep red, almost black; Jowan had forced their blood to solidify into barbed crystals, killing the beasts. He looked worn out, and I shouted to look out as I saw a hurlock charging at him from the left.

Oghren must have heard me, because he charged at the hurlock before it reached the mage, cutting the creature in half with a mighty swing of his axe. He had a glazed, red-rimmed look in his eyes, his mouth opened in a roar; I could hear it faintly in the distance, as if through water. The others gave him a wide berth as he swung his battleaxe around, taking a few moments to realize the fighting was over.

"Are you okay?" I asked, looking around at everyone, and they nodded. "Try talking – I want to know if my hearing's back," I added.

"Yes, we're fine," I heard Leliana's voice in the distance, and I made a face.

"Mmm…still really quiet. What _was_ that thing?" I asked, looking down at the screaming darkspawn's corpse as I stood shakily.

"I think they're called shrieks," Alistair replied, and I laughed.

"Wow. _That's_ original," I remarked, and Alistair smiled, glad that I was alright.

"At any rate, we should continue, before more descend upon us," Morrigan prompted, and I nodded, my hearing improving a bit.

"Right. Which way now…?" I muttered, checking over the map. There was an old stone bridge to our left, and we followed it – the way ahead was a dead-end, either way. As we walked, I regained my hearing, lightly tapping at my ears until I was sure it was back to normal.

"Why were _you_ the only one that went deaf from that?" Alistair asked, once I said my hearing had returned. "I mean, my ears are ringing, but they weren't _bleeding_ ," he elaborated, and I shrugged, unable to explain.

"Hmm…maybe since I was closest?" I mused.

"Probably. The thing was close enough to kiss you," Katja remarked, and I made a face.

"I…that is a very disturbing mental image," I replied. "Oh…great," I added, sensing more darkspawn ahead.

"What is it? Darkspawn?" Sten asked, glancing around warily as we crossed the bridge.

"Yes," Alistair replied, nodding towards another large bonfire in the distance. We could see the shape of an ogre's shadow against the wall, and Alistair groaned. I tensed, shivering slightly as my breathing picked up; I could still remember the feeling of getting crushed to death, and my fingers tightened on the handle of my blade.

"What?" Neria asked, seeing my fear, and I pointed.

"Don't get near it. It'll snap your back like a twig," I warned, and her face went white as she saw the giant creature, tall as a house, the ground vibrating as it walked around.

"Now _that's_ a beast," Oghren whistled, staring at the darkspawn.

"Sod, it's noticed us," I hissed, drawing my saber as the ogre sniffed the air, looking around for us and letting out a roar, the deep bellow echoing around the cave. It took all my self-control not to turn on my heel and flee, terror rising in my throat as I tasted bile.

"Plan?" Leliana yelled over the roaring as she nocked an arrow, staring at the creature as it began to charge.

"Don't die!" I replied, going against all instinct running straight for it.

"What are you _doing?_ " Jowan shouted at me, seeing me dash ahead of the others. The ogre held out its arms, swiping at me with curved claws as I rushed towards it. I leapt, landing on a forearm and running lightly up to its shoulder. Sten and Alistair had gotten on either side, stabbing into the creature's legs to cripple it, and it roared, flailing its arms around wildly. Leliana and Katja were firing off arrows and bolts, and Wynne was casting an aura spell over Sten and Alistair, their skin glowing faintly in the dim light of the cave.

"Raaa!" I let out a fierce cry, raising my saber above my head with both arms as I knelt on the top of the ogre's head, stabbing down into the creature's face and hearing a small crack and a sickening squelch as I shoved the blade deep into its eye, feeling it stop as it hit the back of the skull. The darkspawn shuddered, its body rigid for a moment before it began toppling backwards. "Incoming!" I yelled, and Sten and Alistair leapt out of the way as the ogre crashed to the ground, making the cave shake with the force of the impact.

"Maker's breath," Alistair muttered, shaking his head at me; I was struggling to tear my saber out of the creature's eye-socket, bracing my foot against the forehead and tugging.

"It's _really_ stuck in there," I gasped, giving a hard pull and falling backwards as the blade slipped out of the darkspawn's corpse. "Ouch." I sat up quickly, flicking blood and brain-matter off of my sword, sheathing it and looking back at the others.

"Honestly, Adeline," Morrigan sighed, shaking her head at me.

"Well I didn't want it to run us down. Getting crushed to death by one of these things isn't fun – _trust me_ ," I replied, nodding towards a tunnel in the distance. "Shall we? Before another shows up?" I added, and she sighed, relenting. We headed into the tunnel, keeping an eye out for more darkspawn and deepstalkers.

"You've been very reckless these past few days, Adeline," Wynne observed as we walked, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Really? I thought I've always been like that," I replied, glancing back and seeing Katja and Oghren looking around, muttering something about lyrium – if I recalled correctly, Dwarves could sense lyrium deposits; perhaps that was what they were doing? Jowan and Morrigan seemed to be doing the same, and I glanced to my right, sensing a lyrium vein just beneath the surface of the stone.

"Not that I have seen," the old woman answered, and I shrugged.

"You just haven't seen me fighting darkspawn much," I replied, but she didn't seem pleased by my answer.

"Don't you think your wild attacks put you in unnecessary danger?" she asked, and I shrugged.

"So long as everyone else is unhurt, I'm fine," I said. She seemed even less pleased by this answer, pursing her lips but not speaking further.

"You couldn't hurt me if you wanted to, witch, you know that?" Oghren suddenly said, and I glanced back to see him talking with Morrigan, who didn't even bother trying to hide her disgust. _Oh, this is a disaster waiting to happen,_ I thought.

"T'is so?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, her yellow eyes almost reflective in the dark.

"Dwarves _resist_ magic, woman. There's nothing you could do," the Dwarf grunted in reply, a smug grin on his face.

"Nothing? I could not, for instance, kick you in your manhood?" Morrigan asked, and Oghren made a face.

"Oof." He muttered, seeing that she meant it.

"Do you wish to see?" she added, and he grumbled something under his breath.

"Not necessary," he replied, taking a few steps to the side so that he was out of kicking range.

"Well, the offer stands," Morrigan said, absently fingering some runes on her staff.

oooo

We exited the tunnel system, climbing down a pile of dirt and stones and finding ourselves on a stretch of carved stone highway, with canals of magma flowing by the sides. "Caridin's Cross! I can't believe Bhelen actually tracked this place down. This used to be one of the biggest crossroads in the old empire. You could get anywhere from here – including Ortan Thaig," Oghren exclaimed, looking around at the walls and high ceiling, his eyes brightening with a glimmer of excitement.

"So, you know where to go from here?" I asked, glancing down at the Dwarf as he looked around intently.

"Aye. Branka dug up some maps of the ancient empire. It's a little tough to tell with so much of it collapsed now, but near as I can figure we're on the right path to Ortan Thaig," he replied, coming back and pointing to a rout on my map. "If we head this way, we should reach the thaig," he said, and I nodded, folding up the map.

He went back to looking around carefully, and I glanced towards the center of the crossroad, still at least a half-mile away and blocked by a large pile of rubble, with a giant pillar stretching up towards the ceiling of the cave. I could sense darkspawn on the other side of the pile, growing a bit tense. "See any sign of Branka yet?" I asked, and Oghren shook his head, kicking aside a small fragment of collapsed pillar as we started walking, heading down a side tunnel to find a way around the blockage.

"Not a one, but trust me, we will once we're on the path to the old Ortan Thaig. She was going to Caridin's home," he replied, and I looked at him curiously.

"So Caridin was a very important Paragon, I take it?" I asked, and Oghren snorted at my lack of knowledge.

"He was only Branka's _hero_ , the most famed Paragon ever to rise from Smith Caste," he grunted, shaking his head. "He built the Anvil, and he's the only one who ever knew its secret. He was an Ortan before he founded his own house, and even then, he spent most of his time in their thaig. Branka figured it was the best guess for where the Anvil was located," Oghren explained, and I nodded.

"Makes sense. Say, do you know anything else about the Anvil?" I asked, curious; I had the sneaking suspicion that Bhelen had planned on me finding the Anvil that Branka had been searching for, and bringing it back to him like I was one of his lap-dogs. _Fat chance. I want to know_ _ **what**_ _this thing is before I do anything with it. If we even_ _ **find**_ _it, that is._

"No one but Caridin ever really knew more than that it had some kind of Stone-blessed power," Oghren answered. "Every golem who ever ranged across the empire was hammered on the steel of that Anvil, but no one ever knew exactly how they were made. Branka was sure _she_ could find out," he said it with such confidence that it surprised me.

"She was that brilliant, hmm?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Aye. She was," he replied.

"Well, let's get going then; the sooner we find her, the better," I said, nodding towards the path ahead, and Oghren let out a chuckle.

"I've been waiting for someone to say that for two sodding years," he grinned.

We came out of a side tunnel on the other side of the blockage after hours of walking, killing darkspawn and deepstalkers alike as we made our way through the twisting stone passages. The group of darkspawn ahead of us had a pair of ballistae stationed on a tall mound of dirt, firing large, metal bolts at us. Morrigan and Jowan took them out from a distance, setting the ballistae on fire. A barrel of oil nearby toppled over as a genlock crashed into it, the oil catching fire and sending a wave of flame over any darkspawn nearby.

"I've noticed a pattern here," I remarked, watching the shrieking creatures as they burned. "Whenever there's a barrel of oil nearby, somehow we manage to set it on fire."

"It is to our advantage, no?" Zevran asked, absently twirling a throwing knife around his finger, darkspawn screams echoing as the fire died down.

"Yes, but I always wonder at the convenient placement. It's like the darkspawn are _asking_ to be lit on fire," I replied. We walked up the mound once the fire had died down, and I heard a grunting sound to my left. "Look out, it's one of those weird spiky cow things," I warned, recognizing the creature but forgetting the name, and Oghren threw me a look.

"Spiky… _cow?_ That's a bronto, Warden," he replied.

"Well, look out for it anyway," I said. Sten and Oghren took the leathery-skinned beast down quickly, knocking it onto its side and cutting off the head. "Hmm…these things safe to eat?" I asked the Dwarf, and he looked up at me oddly.

"…yeah. Why?" he replied, and I shrugged.

"I was thinking we should camp here for the night," I explained, and he scowled.

"We're stopping?" he asked in frustration.

"I need everyone in top shape – the further into the Deep Roads we go, the more darkspawn we're going to see. Since I can't tell the time of day here, I'm going by what shape we're in," I replied, nodding towards the group. Despite their best efforts to hide it, they looked a bit weary from travelling all day. "If Branka has survived for two years, I'm sure she can last another few days," I added, and Oghren let out a reluctant grunt of assent.

We set up camp in an open area, dragging over some of the barricades the darkspawn had built and setting them up in a circle around camp. I cut up parts of the bronto for dinner; I was unsure of how to clean the strange animal, so Katja offered to help – the casteless watched me, seeming mildly impressed that I wasn't squeamish about being up to my elbows in gore.

As Sten and Neria kept first watch that night, I stared at the ceiling high above, unable to sleep well with the tight knot in my chest. _The archdemon's down here somewhere. I can't 'hear' it directly from this far away, but I know it's here._ I drifted off eventually, thanking the Maker that I didn't have any nightmares. We set off after a few hours of rest, unable to tell the time of day – once everyone was sufficiently rested, we packed our things and continued.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	27. Chapter 27: Ortan Thaig

Chapter 27

Ortan Thaig

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"So. Antiva. Wonderful place. Full of…Antivans." Oghren and Zevran were walking a little ways behind me, and Zevran raised an eyebrow at the Dwarf's awkward delivery.

"Oghren, if you want to bed me, you have only to ask," the Elf said, and Oghren made an outraged sound in his throat.

"What? Draw your weapon and say that again!" he growled furiously, hand flying to the handle of his axe. Zevran laughed, stepping lightly out of range as Oghren glowered, his axe in his hands.

"I jest, my foul-smelling friend," Zevran chuckled, holding his hands up in peace. "You are only slightly less attractive to me than a slime-filled pool of swamp water," the Elf grinned, and Oghren glared at him.

"Hmph. _Better_ be," the Dwarf snorted, putting his weapon back.

"You have my oath," Zevran promised, placing a hand on his heart.

"Bloody _Antivans_ ," Oghren muttered darkly, keeping a suspicious eye on Zevran, who was still smirking at him. We continued on for a while, the group chattering quietly about the Deep Roads and wondering if we would encounter more darkspawn.

"I don't sense any nearby, but that could change at any moment," I warned, keeping an eye out for the other creatures that lurked in the tunnels.

"This looks like the right way out. Ortan Thaig. It won't be long now," Oghren breathed, looking at an ancient sign-post covered in Dwarvish runes. The highway was oddly quiet, and relatively clear. I wondered why, until I saw the reason; by the opening of a side tunnel lay the corpse of an ogre, still fresh, surrounded by the bodies of giant spiders, their legs curled up over them.

"Perfect. Giant spiders," I muttered, giving the corpses a wide berth.

"Oh, you know, Selina used to grow these back in the Circle," Jowan remarked, crossing his arms and looking at the giant arachnids.

"Truly?" Wynne asked, curious despite her distrust of the young man.

"Oh, yes, she used to do all sorts of experiments down in the catacombs. I think Irving knew, but he never said anything," Jowan replied and Wynne looked quite surprised at this news. "I'm not the only one who was going against the rules, Wynne. You were an apprentice once, too," Jowan added, and Wynne pursed her lips.

"Yes…I see your point," the older woman murmured.

"Their venom must be very potent to kill an ogre. Let me collect a sample – It will only take a moment," Morrigan said, kneeling by the body of one of the spiders and examining it carefully. Once she had collected a sample of the poison, we continued into the cave; the highway was blocked once more by giant piles of rubble and stone.

As we walked, I tensed, spotting a giant spider sitting in the tunnel ahead of us. It let out a hiss, skittering away into the darkness. "Ugh, damned things…" I muttered; I wasn't _afraid_ of spiders, per se, but I wasn't exactly eager to tangle with the giant, poison-fanged beasts. We followed cautiously, glancing up at the ceiling warily, expecting spiders to drop down on us at any moment.

A commotion up ahead drew our attention, and we peeked around a corner of the tunnel as it led to a large, open cavern. Darkspawn and giant spiders were fighting, the creatures hissing and shrieking at one another as they battled. "Well would you look at that," Oghren remarked, watching as some spiders leapt onto an ogre, taking the giant darkspawn down as they bit into its arms and throat, their poison making the creature's skin swell up and turn red.

"Note to self – do _not_ let one of those things bite you. _Ever_ ," Katja breathed, fingers tensing on her crossbow as the spiders and darkspawn wiped each other out. We were all liking the Deep Roads less and less with every passing minute.

"…well that was strange. I wonder why the spiders attacked them," Alistair murmured, checking that the coast was clear before we continued into the cavern. The spiders had disappeared, and we were looking around warily, keeping our hands on our weapons. I could sense something strange from the spiders, making a face every time we saw one and it ran off.

"Do you… _sense_ something from them?" I asked Alistair, and he watched warily as a spider skittered away, climbing straight up a wall and disappearing into darkness.

"…yes. It's…not _exactly_ like the darkspawn, but I can sense taint in them. Do you think they've been… _eating_ darkspawn?" he replied, and I shrugged.

"Maybe. Doesn't seem to be much else down here they can eat besides the deepstalkers, and I haven't seen any this far in. I wonder if those spiders can sense the taint back, and are frightened of us," I theorized.

At the end of the tunnel system, we found ourselves in a giant cavern, stretching out for more than a mile, it seemed. There were ruins of old stone buildings, and a giant statue stood in the middle of the cave, parts of it broken off. Oghren looked around with wide eyes, taking in a shaky breath.

"By the tits of my ancestors; Ortan Thaig. I never thought I'd see this place in the flesh," he murmured, eyes taking in every detail. "I can see Branka all over this place. She always took chips from the walls at regular intervals when she was in a new tunnel – check their composition. If she was still here, though, she'd have sentries out by now," he added, and I took a quiet breath, looking around.

"No one's been down here for months…or at least, not a company as large as the one we're looking for; the cobwebs are thick, and there's no trace of objects being disturbed," I murmured, and he glanced up at me. "…what if they…um…" I trailed off at Oghren's scowl.

"Well, aren't _you_ a sodding bright spot today? If everyone's dead, there'd be evidence of a major battle, wouldn't there? Three hundred or so Dwarves don't just _fade away_ ," Oghren growled, and I bit my lip.

"They do if they _starved_ to death," I muttered under my breath. He was silent at my reply, but I could tell he was furious at me for suggesting that. "Let's just get a move on," I added quickly as I felt the tension between us, and he grunted in assent.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," he replied.

The thaig was eerily quiet, and I looked around warily, sensing that something was wrong. "What was that?" Leliana whispered, hearing a faint grating sound in the distance, like stones being rubbed together.

"I don't–" I was cut off as I heard a rumbling, thumping sound, and I gasped; ahead of us were strange, ghostly figures of Dwarves wearing ancient armor, their bodies transparent. Beside them were giant men, taller than Sten, made of stone, the cracks between the stones glowing with a faint green light as they moved, running towards us and letting out fierce battle-cries.

"Maker's breath!" Alistair gasped, leaping out of the way as one of the golems threw a boulder the size of a barrel at us, shattering into small splinters of stone as it hit the ground.

"Somehow I don't think our swords are going to work on them," I remarked, not bothering to unsheathe my blade – I didn't want to risk damaging Duncan's sword by bashing rocks with it.

"Leave the golems to the mages – you should concentrate on the spirits," Wynne said, waving her staff in the air and calling out an incantation, freezing one of the golems solid. She launched a ball of condensed earth and rock at it, and the stone giant shattered to bits, a burst of green light escaping from the pile of rubble that was left behind. Jowan and Morrigan followed suit, taking positions on either side of the elderly mage.

"Are these things even solid?" I wondered, jabbing experimentally at one of the spirits as it swung a ghostly weapon at me, a faint blue aura around the Dwarf. My blade connected with armor with a faint clang, and I pressed hard, shoving the saber through the ghost's body. It burst into a blue mist with a loud, echoing shout, vanishing.

Morrigan, Jowan and Wynne took care of the golems with their magic while Leliana, Katja and I stood nearby, fending off any of the spirits that targeted them. The others had run ahead, taking the horde of spirits on in teams of two so they wouldn't be overwhelmed. Not a moment after the last ghost fell, we were set upon by swarms of spiders, the creatures hissing and shrieking at us as they dropped down from the ceiling. I couldn't sense any taint in these spiders, and wondered if that was why they were so aggressive. _Shouldn't it be the other way around?_

Once the last of the creatures fell, we gathered together, taking a few moments to catch our breath and collect ourselves. "Let's split into two teams and search for traces of Branka," I suggested, sorting us into groups. "Oghren, Zevran, Wynne, Neria, and Jowan, you're with me; we'll search the northeastern part of the thaig. Alistair, you take everyone else and search the southwest part. Keep an eye out for darkspawn, and more of these ghosts and golems," I warned, and Alistair nodded.

"Stay safe, Adeline," he urged, and I smiled.

"Don't worry so much, my dear," I replied.

Our groups went in opposite directions, picking carefully through the ruins of the thaig for any sign of Branka and her clan. We found a sealed chest in the remains of a building, and I picked the lock, finding a stack of papers that had been preserved. "Mmm…these are too old to be from Branka's expedition," I remarked, handing them to Oghren anyway so he could look them over.

"Aye. These are old records… Hmm…" he trailed off, reading the Dwarvish script. "Looks like they're lineage papers – names of Dwarves from House Ortan. Shaperate would probably pay to get their hands on these," Oghren said, handing them back. I carefully rolled up the papers, tucking them away in my pack for safekeeping.

"I guess we can see to that when we get back. Maker knows we need the coin," I replied, glancing up. "Did you hear that?" I asked, and the others shook their heads. "…that's odd. I feel taint, but it's not darkspawn. Be careful – there might be more spiders up ahead," I warned, and the others drew their weapons, ready to fight.

We searched around, finding no trace of darkspawn, spiders, or anything else. We found another old chest back behind some collapsed buildings, and I picked the lock, lifting out a dusty old book that looked like a journal. "Huh. Wonder who's _this_ was?" I murmured, flipping through the pages. I paused, seeing a large, detailed diagram in the middle of the book – it was a sketch depicting a cross-section of large, steel-plate armor, showing a Dwarf inside, small as a child in the huge suit. Slanted notes were scrawled messily in the margins, and I raised an eyebrow, handing the book to Oghren. "Could you read that?" I asked, and he glanced at the diagram.

As the Dwarf read the ancient script in silence, I could tell that something was wrong – Oghren was too quiet for too long. His face went white as a sheet, and his eyes widened. When I asked what the journal said, he shook his head, refusing to speak about it. "It's not for a surfacer's ears," he rumbled, and I set my jaw at his excuse. I didn't want to press him about it, though – he already didn't seem to like me much, and I didn't want to push my luck.

oooo

After about an hour of looking for signs of Branka, the rest of our group rejoined us at the base of the giant statue that stood in the center of the thaig. "Find anything?" Alistair asked, once they had returned, and I shook my head.

"Only some old documents – they're from long before Branka passed through, though," I replied. "There's still an area we haven't been to yet, back that way; it looks like there's a tunnel, but I didn't want to leave the thaig and end up lost," I added, indicating the way we came. When Oghren wasn't looking, I moved over to Katja and handed her the journal we found, asking her if she could read it for me.

"Can't help you, salroka," she apologized with a shrug. "Casteless aren't allowed to learn how to read. Besides the noble-hunters, that is," she explained, and I nodded, tucking away the journal.

As we walked back towards the tunnel, approaching an area that had been paved in the shape of a circle, I heard Alistair talking quietly behind me, and I pricked my ears, listening. "Why are you smiling like that? You look suspiciously like the cat that swallowed the pigeon," he muttered, narrowing his eyes at Wynne, who had a thin smirk across her face.

"Canary," she corrected.

"What?"

"I look like the cat that swallowed the canary," she elaborated, and he snorted.

"I once had a _very_ large cat. But not my point! My point is, why are you smirking?" he asked, trying to keep his voice low. _Maybe I shouldn't eavesdrop,_ I thought, absently fingering the handle of my knife, my eyes sweeping the area for any signs of danger.

"You were watching her. With great interest, I might add. In fact, I believe you were…enraptured," Wynne teased, and Alistair's cheeks turned red.

"She is our leader. I look to her for guidance," he replied quickly, and Wynne's smirk widened. I felt my ears going red at their words, biting my lip.

"Oh, I see. So what guidance did you find in those swaying hips, hmm?" the old woman asked.

"No, no, no. I wasn't looking at…you know, her… _hind-quarters_ …" Alistair stammered out, and Wynne continued to smile.

"Certainly."

"I gazed… _glanced_ , in that direction, maybe. But I wasn't staring. Or really… _seeing_ anything, even," Alistair added, flustered, his whole face red.

"Of course," the old woman replied smugly, and Alistair glared at her.

"I hate you. You're a bad person," he muttered grumpily.

Once we neared the side tunnel, I spotted a ragged-looking Dwarf man kneeling by the body of a dead hurlock, his hair and beard wild and knotted, and his eyes red-rimmed and crazed. "What the… Who _is_ that?" I muttered, surprised at finding someone besides us in the thaig.

"There's nothing for you here! It's mine! I've claimed it!" he shouted as he noticed us, grabbing a makeshift spear from the ground at his side and pointing at us.

"Whoa, calm down. We're not going to hurt you," I said in a gentle tone, glancing around carefully, sensing taint. He calmed down a fraction at my soft voice, staring at us warily. "Who are you? What are you doing down here?" I asked, and the Dwarf suddenly went off, taking a few steps back and holding up his spear.

"You've come to take my claim! You surfacers are all alike; thieving scoundrels! Well, I found it first!" he cried, menacing us.

"He's not one of your clan, is he?" I asked Oghren, and the Dwarf glared at me, insulted.

"Bah! He's a bloody scavenger, good as sodding gone," he growled, keeping a wary eye on the mad Dwarf.

"Begone, you! You'll bring the dark ones back, you will! They'll crunch your bones!" the scavenger hissed, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Dark ones? The darkspawn?" I guessed, and Alistair shrugged.

"Word has it you can only survive down here by eating the darkspawn dead," Oghren muttered, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Darkspawn blood is poison. It drives you mad and kills you from the inside," I replied, perplexed; how had this man survived like this?

"It burns when it goes down. It _burns!_ " the scavenger shouted.

"Poor creature! Such are the lengths to which our survival instinct drives us," Wynne murmured pityingly, looking sadly at the madman.

"Well, if you need to dispose of darkspawn bodies after the Blight…" Morrigan remarked, and Alistair shot her an angry look.

"Oh, that is a horrible, _horrible_ suggestion," he retorted, and she rolled her eyes at the agitated man.

"Really? It might solve that world hunger problem you are always fretting about," she challenged.

"Go away! Stop talking, stop! No more noise! It's my claim, not yours! Crunch your bones!" the scavenger shrieked, running down the tunnel.

"Perfect – he went right where we're headed," I sighed, fingering the handle of my saber nervously. He could be dangerous, that was true, but I didn't want to kill him – he had been terrified of us.

"Be careful Warden – a cornered wolf is most dangerous," Zevran warned as we walked down the tunnel, and I nodded.

"Then keep on your guard, but don't draw your weapons unless he attacks – I don't want to provoke him," I replied. We walked down the tunnel, more spiders screeching and scattering at our approach, and I could hear someone chattering softly ahead, the voice echoing in the cavern as we emerged, finding an old campsite.

"Go away! This is mine! Only _I_ gets to plunder its riches!" the Dwarf cried, furious that we had followed. He was standing by a small fire, scraps of cloth and bits of leather pushed into a pile nearby, shaped into a nest.

"Calm down, we just want to talk," I said softly, raising my hands in peace.

"No! No talking! You leave my territory!" he yelled, and I sighed.

"I'm not here to steal anything, I promise," I pressed, and he looked at me in silence, taking in a long breath.

"Pretty lady…pretty eyes, pretty hair…smells like the steam of burning water, blue as the deepest rock…" he breathed, his eyes glazing over slightly as he stared at me. "So…the pretty lady won't take anything from Ruck? You won't take Ruck's shiny worms and pretty rocks?" he asked, and I shook my head.

"I promise I won't take anything. I just want to talk to you," I replied gently, and he nodded a bit, letting me approach, but raising his spear at the others, stopping them.

"Ruck not mind that, maybe…" he murmured, staring at me with big eyes.

"Your name is Ruck?" I asked softly, kneeling next to him, and he nodded and looked at the ground, bashful.

"Ruck not pretty name, not pretty like lady. Ruck is small and ugly and twisted," he replied sadly.

"I think I met your mother. Is her name Filda?" I prodded, and Ruck's eyes widened. He took a few steps back, suddenly fearful.

"N-n-n-no. No Filda. No mother. No warm blanket and stew and pillow and soft words! Ruck doesn't deserve good memories. No-no-no-no-no–" Ruck cried out, grabbing his hair and staring at the fire with crazed eyes.

"Your mother misses you, Ruck. She asked me to look for you," I tried, looking at him warily, fighting the urge to place a hand on my knife as he wailed, his eyes red-rimmed with madness.

"Sh-she did not know, not what I did. I was very, very, very, very angry and then someone was dead. They wanted to send Ruck to the mines. If I went to the mines, sh-she would know. Everyone would know. So I came here, instead," the Dwarf gasped out, staring up at me with big eyes, terrified, almost on the verge of tears.

"Shh…it's alright…" I murmured gently, and the Dwarf looked at me, his breathing slowing down and the tension loosening from his shoulders slightly.

"Once you eat…once you takes in the darkness…you not miss the light so much," he added in a softer tone, calming down a bit. "You know, don't you? Ruck sees, yes. He sees the darkness inside you. You've eaten them…tasted their blood…" he breathed, and I stiffened. He must have sensed the taint in me, and in Alistair.

"I…but what should I tell your mother? She doesn't know if you're dead or alive," I said quickly, trying to shift the subject away from darkspawn taint – the others didn't know how Grey Wardens became what we were, and I preferred not to tell them; the Joining was kept a secret for a reason.

"No, no, no! She cannot know what I have become… She remembers a boy, a little boy, with bright eyes and a hammer and she _cannot_ see _this!_ " Ruck gasped, indicating himself, and the area around. "Swear-promise-vow you won't tell!" he pleaded, looking at me with desperate eyes.

"I understand. This would break her heart," I sighed, and the Dwarf nodded rapidly, looking at the fire briefly before looking back at me. "What should I tell her, though?" I added, and Ruck stared at his hands, the fingers twitching nervously as he thought.

"T-tell the mother Ruck is dead. He's dead and his bones are rotting in the crawlers' webs and she should never look again," he said quickly.

"Alright. I'll tell her you died bravely," I promised, and he nodded, smiling at me with broken, blood-stained teeth.

"Pretty lady is like Mother, yes. Too good, too pretty for the darkness. H-how can Ruck serve you with thank yous? Here-here, take this," he thanked, running to his bed and rummaging through the pile, bringing back an old blade, the scabbard wrapped with cloth bearing a family crest – perhaps it was the mark of his house?

"Thank you Ruck, that is very kind," I said, bowing my head and strapping the blade to my back – I would give this to Filda when we returned to Orzammar. "Can I ask you some questions?" I added, and Ruck nodded.

"Anything, pretty lady," he grinned.

"Did you find anything unusual at this camp?" I asked, and he looked around the campsite, nodding slowly.

"Bits of things, but only bits. The crawlers took almost everything. They takes things of steel and things of paper. They takes the shinies and the words," Ruck recalled, and Oghren crossed his arms, scratching his chin.

"Paper and words? That sounds like someone was taking notes. Do you think Branka camped here?" he asked, a bit of hope in his tone.

"They bring to the great nest, the nest they makes for the eggs. They puts the shinies inside, they do," Ruck said.

"Thank you Ruck. We'll leave you now," I replied, nodding gratefully for the information. Zevran was watching me with concern, crossing his arms and nodding towards Ruck.

"I am not what one would call a sympathetic man, but seeing him like this pains me. We should at least put him out of his misery," the Elf said, and Ruck glanced up at him, his eyes a bit sad.

"Is not so bad. The dark and the burning keeps Ruck warm…warm like Mother's arms…" the mad Dwarf replied, staring into the fire with a glazed look in his eyes.

"His mind is gone, and his body will soon follow. I have seen victims of poisoning in better shape," Zevran pressed, and I bit my lip, standing slowly from where I knelt and lightly crossing my arms. _One day I might end up like this, too…_ I thought sadly, shaking my head faintly.

"He may not live as we do, but that's no reason to kill him," I argued weakly, and Zevran seemed surprise by the mix of anxiety and uncertainty in my eyes.

"I…see," he replied, looking at me carefully as I glanced back at Ruck. "We'll just leave him here to his fate."

"Then…I have done what you wished? Ruck answered your questions?" Ruck asked, and I nodded, smiling gently at the madman.

"Yes, you did fine," I replied, and he let out a sigh of relief.

"The pretty lady is so nice to Ruck. I will stay here and imagine I smell your hair. Such a nice memory…" the Dwarf rambled, watching us as we headed back out of the tunnel, leaving him by the fire. I glanced at Jowan, recalling what he had said the other day about wanting to find a cure for the taint, and he nodded slightly, seeing the anxiety that I didn't quite manage to hide; he had a determined look in his eye, now that he had seen what the taint could do to someone firsthand.

"Looks like that bone-picker is living in Branka's old camp," Oghren said, once we were out of the tunnel and back in the thaig. "Did you see the marks on the floor? There were a lot of people and fires there once. Those must be Branka's papers he said were taken by the spiders. Nothing that fragile would be left from the thaig if it was unsealed," he reasoned, and I nodded.

"Right. We saw a lot of webbing up in the northwest corner, by the exit tunnel. That's probably our best bet," I replied, and we headed off.

As we walked, I thought back on what Ruck had said…his mad ramblings, and how broken and twisted the poor Dwarf had become from eating darkspawn. A chill ran through me, and I shuddered involuntarily. "You alright? Your shoulders got stiff all of a sudden," Alistair asked softly, and I nodded quickly, trying to compose myself before the others noticed.

"Yes. I'm…fine," I said unconvincingly, and he let out a soft breath.

"You're a bad liar, Adeline. What's wrong?" he murmured, seeing the look of anxiety in my eyes. I sighed, hugging myself.

"…will we end up like that?" I asked in a small voice, and Alistair smiled gently, shaking his head.

"No. I promise you that we won't. The taint affects us differently," he replied softly, and I let out a sigh of relief.

"That's…that's good. The nightmares are bad enough; I couldn't imagine what it would be like to…to lose my mind as well," I breathed, and he patted my back reassuringly. "I think the others are starting to look at us weird now, after what he said," I added, and Alistair nodded.

"Right. It's best that they don't know…for the moment, at least," he replied, and we agreed to keep it between us.

oooo

As we neared the spiders' nest, the buildings and walls of the thaig became more and more thickly covered in webbing, and I could sense the tainted spiders hiding on the ceiling above us. "They're all swarming up there," I warned the others, pointing up towards the darkness, where faint hissing could be heard.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Leliana murmured as she covered her mouth, shuddering at the thought of all the giant spiders up there.

"Ugh. I hate spiders," Katja mumbled, loading her crossbow and holding a fire grenade at the ready, glaring up at the ceiling with wary eyes.

"There is a book among the webbing," Sten said, pointing to a small, leather-bound journal lying in a corner, by some stones.

"Good eyes, Sten," I replied, taking a cautious step forward, hand on my saber's handle as I looked up towards the ceiling. As soon as I neared the book, I heard a shriek from above, leaping back as spiders dropped down in front of me. Olan barked and snarled behind me, and I looked back to see more spiders showering down everywhere. "Maker's blood!" I gasped as one landed on me, knocking me down. I kicked it off, the spider sailing over my head and crashing against a statue, shrieking as the statue tumbled down on top of it.

"Don't let them get you alone!" Leliana cried, kicking at spiders as they swarmed around her feet. Olan head-butted one as it leapt at her back, snarling and biting at the spindly legs, and Katja let out a fearsome cry, throwing her grenade at a thick clump of the spiders, incinerating them as the glass broke. Morrigan, Jowan and Wynne stuck close to Sten, casting fire spells in areas where the spiders were most heavily concentrated, trying to make a path for Leliana, Katja and Olan to join them.

Neria dashed forward, her blade shining as she barreled through the spiders, trying to reach me but getting forced back to the main group. She switched to her bow, taking out spiders as they continued to drop from the ceiling in waves. I roared fiercely as spiders leapt on Zevran, knocking him to the ground, and I threw them off, dragging the Elf upright and standing with my back against his as we defended against the spiders. "Why are there so many?" he exclaimed, cutting a spider down as it leapt for his arm. " _Mierda!_ " he swore as the spider's claw cut a long gash across his forearm, tearing the leather bracer on his wrist – he had narrowly avoided getting bitten.

"I don't know!" I replied, kicking off a spider that latched onto my leg. "Andraste's Mercy, there's _hundreds_ of them!" I hissed through gritted teeth. I let out a surprised shout as three spiders leapt on me at once, knocking me down and trying to bite me. Zevran hurriedly tried to tear them off, but more crawled over me, holding me down as I tried to shove them away, and I fought to keep their fanged teeth from biting into any exposed skin.

"Incoming!" I heard someone roar, glancing up to see Oghren ramming spiders out of his way, Alistair at his back as they battled towards us. Zevran leapt out of the way as the Dwarf swung his axe, throwing the spiders clear. I scrambled to my feet, grabbing my sword and thanking him.

"You two alright?" I gasped, fighting off more of the shrieking creatures as we tried to join the others.

"I was about to ask _you_ that, Warden; when I saw you go down I thought you were spider-bait," Oghren replied.

"I've got a few scrapes and cuts, but nothing major. Zevran?" I asked, and the assassin said he was fine, although he was still bleeding from his arm. A loud screech caught our attention, and we balked; a giant spider, bigger than Olan, had dropped down from the ceiling, and was shrieking and charging at the others.

"Andraste's flaming sword!" Alistair gasped, his eyes wide.

"Get behind the shield you fools! Before it is upon us!" Morrigan nearly screamed, and we barreled through the spiders, standing in a tight circle as Wynne cast a shield, the glowing blue aura shimmering in the air around us.

Morrigan raised her stave, letting out a yell, and a gout of flame erupted from the tip of the twisted rod, fanning out and swirling around us in a deadly vortex. Jowan raised his staff as well, closing his eyes as a red glow formed over his hands. He placed a hand on each mage's shoulder, and I saw the intensity of their spells increase – Jowan was augmenting their magic with his own.

I could see Wynne's shoulders shaking, veins standing out on her neck as she struggled to keep the shield up, and Morrigan's lips were quivering as a thin layer of sweat beaded over her brow. Veins stood out on Jowan's neck as he shut his eyes tightly, and I watched helplessly, wishing that there was something I could do to help them.

Jowan collapsed, unable to continue augmenting the others' spells, and Leliana and I grabbed his arms before he could fall, setting him down carefully. Morrigan released the spell after about a minute, shuddering and collapsing as her knees gave out, and Oghren grabbed her arm, stopping her from cracking her skull on the stones. Wynne gasped and fell as well, Alistair catching her by the shoulders, and I knelt by the mages' sides, glancing around quickly for danger; all of the spiders had been reduced to piles of ash.

"Are you three alright?" I asked hurriedly, and they nodded, too exhausted to answer. "Here, I have lyrium potions in my pack," I breathed, rummaging through my bag and pulling out three small vials, handing one to Leliana as she treated Wynne, and one to Neria as she tended Jowan.

I uncorked the vial and held it up to Morrigan's lips, and she swallowed the glowing blue liquid, color returning to her pale face. "…where did you get that?" she asked, still a bit weak as I helped her sit up slowly.

"I bought them in Orzammar. I thought I should carry a few on me in case any of you overexerted yourselves," I replied.

"Thank you," she sighed, taking a few deep breaths before staggering to her feet, leaning against her stave. Once I had made sure that they were alright, I searched around the charred remains of the spiders, finding the book – surprisingly, it had survived the flaming vortex.

"This looks like someone's journal," I said, bending down and picking up the book, finding the letter 'B' scratched into the corner of the leather. The cover was battered and torn, but intact. I leafed through the pages carefully, not wanting to tear the delicate sheets, holding the journal down so that Oghren could read as well as he stood at my side. We flipped to the last page, spotting the word 'farewell'. Oddly enough, it was written in the common tongue, so I didn't need Oghren to translate it for me.

 _[We found evidence today that the Anvil of the Void was not built in the Ortan Thaig. We will go south, to the Dead Trenches. The Anvil is somewhere beyond. My soldiers tell me I am mad, that the Dead Trenches are crawling with darkspawn, that we will surely die before we find the Anvil…_ _ **if**_ _we find it. I leave this here in case they're right. If I die in the Trenches, perhaps someone can yet walk past my corpse and retrieve the Anvil, for if it remains lost, so do we all. If I have not returned and Oghren yet lives, tell him… No, what I have to say should be for his ears alone. This is my farewell.]_

"Branka was thinking about me! I knew she still cared! Old softy," Oghren grinned, once he had read the page. "Looks like the Dead Trenches is our next stop, then. They say the darkspawn nest there, whole herds of 'em. But if that's where Branka went, then that's where I'm going," he added firmly, and I nodded.

"I don't think I could stop you if I tried," I remarked, and he grunted.

"Aye. We should get going – the Dead Trenches are at least a day away, according to Branka's old maps," he replied.

"The sooner we can get out of the Deep Roads the better," I muttered, still a bit wary of spiders. We waited until Wynne, Jowan and Morrigan had recovered, taking a quick break to eat before heading off into the tunnels once more. _Dead Trenches, huh? Isn't that where the Legion's always fighting?_ I thought, smiling slightly as I thought of Duran.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	28. Chapter 28: Twisted

Chapter 28

Twisted

Author's note:

[Bonus update for this Friday]

Sick of Orzammar yet? Me too, but I really _do_ get carried away sometimes when I'm writing. Also, thank you, Judy for the review: feedback is encouraged - don't be shy ;)

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"The bloody doors of Bownammar. I never thought I'd ever see these, you know?" Oghren breathed as we reached the Dead Trenches. A gigantic fortress stood ahead of us, on the other side of a canyon a quarter-mile wide, carved from the cave walls, the grand gates flanked by giant statues of steel-plated golems. I could sense taint far below, and a prickle of fear ran through me – there were tens of thousands of darkspawn down there, at the bottom of the gorge. I glanced back at Alistair, who had tensed as well.

I took a breath, forcing myself to calm down, nodding towards the bridge in the distance. "Well, now you get to attack the fortress with me," I said, giving the Dwarf a crooked grin as he looked up at me, narrowing his eyes at my cheery expression, and perhaps noticing the hint of strain in my tone.

"You're funny, Warden. Bleeding hilarious. Anyway, you'd better be ready to crack skulls once we get in there," Oghren replied scathingly, and I nodded. As we walked, I noticed the mutilated corpses of darkspawn lying around, still fresh, by the blood. Neria wrinkled her nose at the smell, gingerly nudging at a hurlock's severed head with the tip of her boot as she stepped over the body.

"Nothing subtle about what happened here. _Someone_ enjoys killing these things," Zevran remarked, stepping over the same severed head, the beast's mouth still open in a silent shriek.

"Something had some fun with these darkspawn. No finesse in the cuts but I can't argue the results," Alistair added, looking around. The bodies were _everywhere_ , and we had to tiptoe over them to find patches of actual cave floor between the corpses.

"The individual brutality here was unnecessary. These are not precision kills," Sten observed, indicating a genlock's gutted torso, all the limbs and head missing. I could feel all three of them looking at me, and I glanced back with a scowl, hands on my hips.

" _What?_ At least _I_ do it quickly! Maker's _breath_ , you three, I'm not a _savage_ ," I retorted, shaking my head. I paused, sensing something strange. A shudder went through me at the vague familiarity, and my eyes darted around the cavern, searching for the source. "What was that?" I asked softly as I felt another shiver wrack through me, looking back at Alistair, who had sensed it too – it was a strange mix of primal fear and delight, the feelings so strained against each other that it was almost painful.

We walked over to the edge of the trench, looking down at the bottom; a sea of torches flowed through the canyon, each one held by a darkspawn. "There must be thousands of them. Hundreds of thousands," Wynne breathed, the others joining us. I let out a small, startled gasp, feeling a sharp pain in my head, and I stared to my left, sensing something approach. Sensing _him_ approach.

"It…it's _him_ ," I breathed, my eyes wide as I saw the dark form coming towards us.

"Him…who?" Leliana asked warily, her voice full of dread as she guessed the answer. I shook my head, unable to speak as I stared at the approaching form.

There, through the darkness, the archdemon flew, his sweet, hypnotic voice echoing around the tunnels as he roared. While everyone else covered their ears, Alistair and I stared, strange tears of joy springing to our eyes and pouring down our faces, hearts fluttering with mixed euphoria and sheer terror; it felt as if my heart was going to burst from my chest, it was pounding so hard. We stood stock still as the archdemon landed on a precipice, across the canyon from us. It roared, breathing purple flames and speaking to the darkspawn that swarmed at the bottom of the trench.

An echoing cry came from below, and I nearly let out a roar myself, trembling with terror, yet quivering with excitement as my blood boiled. Suddenly, the dragon turned his gaze on us, meeting our eyes; Alistair and I were petrified, freezing as our blood turned to ice in our veins. The dragon roared, and my face went white – I couldn't understand what he was saying, but his tone was…almost _mocking_ , as he looked at us. As if he were saying, 'this is the best you can do? Pathetic.'

As quickly as he had appeared, the archdemon was gone, flying away over the trenches, rallying the darkspawn below with his hypnotic voice. Alistair and I remained frozen to the spot, unable to move if we wanted; everything around us seemed distant and detached as we stared after the dragon. My heart ached with longing as he disappeared, nearly breaking with sadness as I wished for him to return and look upon us once more.

I felt a light hand tap my elbow and I nearly screamed, whipping out my knife as I spun around. "Sodding hell!"

"Maker's blood!" Alistair gasped beside me, hand at his blade as well. The others stared at us with wide eyes, seeing the tears that were still pouring down our faces.

"Ugh…sod, don't _do_ that," I complained, hurriedly wiping my face and putting away my knife with trembling hands – I was shaking so hard that I missed the sheath three times, nearly cutting off my finger before Leliana gently placed her hand over mine, sliding the knife into the sheath for me.

"What was that?" she whispered, and I swallowed hard, trying to calm down.

"The archdemon," Alistair replied, his voice strained as he tried to control his fear.

"I do not think that is what she means," Sten remarked, watching the two of us carefully as we looked at one another.

"Yes. Why were you crying?" Zevran asked, looking warily in the direction the dragon had flown.

"Fear?" I tried, and the others gave us withering looks.

"Those were not tears shed from terror," Wynne remarked, crossing her arms and giving us a stern, no-nonsense look. Alistair looked at her guiltily, glancing back at me as I gave a small, defeated shrug.

"I guess there's no harm in telling them," I murmured, and he gave a short nod.

"Tell us what?" Neria asked.

"You know how Grey Wardens can sense the darkspawn, correct?" Alistair asked, and they nodded. "That's…not _all_ there is. We…have a connection to them. To the archdemon," he explained. "We were… _crying_ …because of its voice," he added, and the others looked startled.

"Its… _voice?_ You were crying because a dragon roared?" Jowan asked doubtfully, and I shook my head.

"No, you don't understand. What _you_ hear as a roar, _we_ hear as a voice. A…a _song_. It creeps into your soul and tears at it, makes you want to become one with it… As if you will find completion and bliss within the…voice…" I trailed off, eyes narrowed and growing distant as I remembered the song.

"That's how the archdemon controls the darkspawn," Alistair said, snapping me out of my trance with a small shake of my shoulder. "Its voice hard to resist. The…taint in us _makes_ it hard to resist."

"That is…a frightening thought," Wynne breathed, looking at us with concern.

"We should continue…before it comes back," I said, walking slowly until the shaking settled down.

oooo

I could hear shouting in the distance as we neared the bridge, the ancient structure spanning the length of the gorge. Battle-cries echoed off the walls, and I could see a company of Dwarves charging the bridge, clashing with darkspawn. "It's the Legion!" I exclaimed, spotting Kardol at the head of the group, leading the charge.

I leapt forward without a second thought, drawing my blade and cutting down the creatures as they fought against the Dwarves, the others joining in as well. I lost myself in the heat of battle, trying to push the enticing voice of the archdemon out of my mind as the darkspawn screeched around me. The Dwarves kept out of our way as we fought, and we kept out of theirs, cutting a bloody swath into the darkspawn ranks as we cleared the bridge, overwhelming the ogre that stood guard at the gates of the fortress as we all leapt on him.

"Atrast vala, Grey Warden. It's good to see you again," Kardol greeted me, once we had killed the last of the darkspawn. I nodded to him in reply, futilely wiping at the darkspawn blood on my face with a handkerchief, my clothing soaked with it. _Maker, I feel so gross,_ I thought, cocking my head at his words – I wondered how he knew I was a Warden.

"You know I'm a Grey Warden?" I asked, wringing out the bloodied piece of cloth and tucking it into my pocket, shooing Olan away as he started sniffing at it.

"I recognize a fighter of darkspawn; it marks you," Kardol replied. "It's why we in the Legion of the Dead abandon our lives, so we can face them without fear. It's a sacrifice I understand Grey Wardens are familiar with," the Dwarf added.

"Adeline?" one of the Dwarves in the company spoke up, and I grinned, spotting Duran. He looked almost as I left him, if a little worn out, and was now sporting a set of blocky tattoos on his bare, muscular arms. He carried a heavy axe on his back, almost his height, and was wearing decent armor, instead of the half-plate we had salvaged from the darkspawn.

"Duran!" I smiled as the Dwarf swept me into a tight embrace, picking me up off the ground and swinging me around over his shoulder. "Oh put me down!" I laughed, hugging him back as he set me on my feet.

"Well if it isn't the exiled prince himself," Oghren remarked, and Duran glanced back at my company. Katja raised an eyebrow, recognizing Duran as well.

"Oghren? That you?" Duran laughed, and I glanced between the two.

"You know each other?" I asked, and Duran snorted.

"Gorim used to throw him out of the palace for calling my father a nug-licker," he explained, and I suppressed a laugh. He looked at the rest of our strange group, glancing up at me oddly. "Huh. For someone who said she wanted to get away from humans, you sure keep a lot of them around," he chuckled, and I rolled my eyes.

"Not _all_ of them are so bad," I mumbled, crossing my arms. "Well, come here, let me introduce you all," I added, motioning for the others to join us. After introductions were made, Duran looked up at me again, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"So what are you doing down here? Lose another expedition?" he teased, and I snorted.

"No. I need to find Paragon Branka," I replied simply, and his eyes widened in surprise. Kardol heard us talking, walking over and raising an eyebrow at me.

"Who put this dull idea in your head? We've got other things to worry about in Orzammar… Ah, now I see," the older Dwarf said, nodding in realization. "The deep lords in the Assembly can't make up their minds, so the pretenders need added influence. I get that right?" he asked, and I snorted.

"That's about it," I sighed, my muscles sore as the adrenalin from the battle wore off.

"Warden, you've got your work cut out for you. Paragon Branka is dead, everyone with sense knows it. Past our line, the darkspawn kill everything," Kardol replied, crossing his arms.

"Why hold back? You can obviously handle yourselves against them," I asked, referring to our fight.

"I'd gladly lead an assault through the Dead Trenches, but without an ass in the throne, we have no orders. I won't take fool's gold from a pretender. You want to go digging blind, you go right ahead," he shrugged and I nodded, watching as he went back to the rest of his company.

"Sorry. Kardol's a little harsh, but he's a good man, and a good leader," Duran replied softly, and I smiled.

"No, I get it – he's been fighting down here for years, I bet," I remarked.

"So…I hear it's Bhelen and Harrowmont fighting over the throne. Little brother is no doubt using every underhanded trick he can think of," Duran snorted, and I bit my lip, trying not to look at him guiltily. "Honestly though…he's what Orzammar needs. Stone forgive me, but it's true," he admitted, and I felt my eyes widen in surprise.

"But…he betrayed you," I murmured, and Duran shrugged.

"I don't forgive him. I _can't_ forgive him – not for what he did. But I've enough sense to know that Orzammar needs someone that'll make progress, not isolate the city," Duran reasoned, and I smiled slightly. "And technically I'm dead – the Legion held my funeral last time we were in Orzammar," he added with a grin.

"I see pragmatism runs in the family," I chuckled, and he laughed.

"Hah! It skipped Trian, it seems – subtle as a rabid deepstalker, that one," he smiled, his eyes a little sad at the memory.

"It was good seeing you, Duran," I said, patting the Dwarf on the shoulder. I glanced down, seeing my old knife on his belt, and I grinned. "Aw, you kept my old knife?" I smiled, and he nodded, clasping my arm.

"Of course – I'll never forget my 'Mad Elf'," he laughed.

"Nor I my exiled prince," I smiled, massaging my sore shoulder as I turned, heading back towards the others. Kardol glanced over at us, watching us go as he cleaned darkspawn blood off of his weapon, snorting slightly and shaking his head.

"Let us know if you find any Paragons. You're as likely to find a dozen as one," Kardol remarked sarcastically, and I rolled my eyes. "And Warden, watch yourself. Drunks make poor allies," he added, seeing Oghren. The red-haired Dwarf glared at him, and I grabbed him by the shoulder as he opened his mouth to reply, giving him a stern look and shaking my head. He muttered darkly under his breath, but relented, following me as we rejoined the rest of the group.

"So how are we going to get past those gates?" I wondered, looking up at the impressively carved stone doors. "How does _anyone_ open these? Is there a mechanism somewhere?" I asked, and the others wondered the same.

"Well, the darkspawn had to have come from somewhere. We should look around to the sides, to see if there's a tunnel they've made to get by," Alistair suggested, and I nodded, letting him lead the way. To the left of the gates, hidden behind one of the giant statues, we found a roughly-carved tunnel, looking like it had been clawed out of the stones. "Careful – there's a lot of them ahead," Alistair warned, glancing about cautiously as we entered the fortress.

oooo

The inside of the building was in ruin; there had once been a bridge straight across – a road used by soldiers when Orzammar still held this fort, perhaps – but all that remained were shattered bits of stone over deep chasms leading to pools of magma far below. We had to make our way through winding halls, constantly battling darkspawn as we tried to get through the fortress. There was something eerie about the place, but no one else seemed to notice – they were concentrating more on fighting the darkspawn that met us nearly every step of the way.

I felt a chill run up my back as I heard a voice in the distance, echoing hauntingly through the dark halls. It was soft and strained, and it crawled into my ears and frightened me more than the darkspawn ever could. "First day, they come and catch everyone." I stared around, searching for the source, but when I glanced at the others, it seemed that no one else had heard it.

"…did you hear that?" I murmured to Olan, whose shoulders had tensed, his ears twitching at the voice. He let out a low growl of acknowledgment, his fur bristling, and his lips pulled back in a snarl. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself as we made our way down a long hallway. Neria looked a bit twitchy as we continued down the halls, wrinkling her nose as if smelling something unpleasant – my nose had been long deadened to the smell of darkspawn by now, so I didn't pick up anything unusual.

"Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat…" the voice echoed again as we moved down the hall, and now the others glanced around, hearing it faintly.

"What was that?" Leliana asked, looking down the hallway.

"Nothing good," Sten muttered, his grip tightening on his sword's handle as more words drifted down the hall.

"Third day, the men are all gnawed on again… Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate…"

"That voice sends a chill up my spine. This place is troubled, to say the least," Alistair breathed, his shoulders tense. I gripped the handle of my blade nervously, thumb running over the woven silver designs.

"Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn… Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams…"

"Wait…I know that voice from somewhere, but it's changed. Wrong," Oghren muttered, narrowing his eyes as he tried to remember where he had heard the voice; I prayed that it wasn't one of his kin. The further down the hall we went, the darker it became as we moved away from the magma pits. The voice continued to echo eerily about, growing louder as we drew nearer to the source.

"Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew… Eighth day, we hated as she is violated…" The walls had a layer of a thick, fleshy substance, coated in boils and tumors – I felt sick looking at it, nearly vomiting as a boil burst nearby and spewed a thick, yellow puss across the floor.

"Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin…" the voice hitched slightly, deeply pained, and I felt a shudder go through me; the speaker was right nearby – just in the next room. "Now she does feast, as she's become the beast."

We rounded a corner, freezing – a Dwarf woman was kneeling among a pile of rotting flesh and bones, holding a skull in her hands and staring at it with blank eyes as she began her dirge anew. "First day, they come and catch everyone…"

"…Hespith?" Oghren asked, bewildered, and I looked at him with wide eyes. _She must be one of his clan, then._

She paused, hearing Oghren, and perhaps sensing our approach. She had been beautiful at one time – her hair was messy and ragged, once a fair caramel, and her face was slim, but regal. Her skin was pulled taught across her cheekbones, and her eyes had heavy bags underneath. Her teeth were stained orange from eating flesh – I could smell blood on her breath, and see the death around her.

"What is this? An Elf? Exotic and impossible. Feeding time brings only kin and clan," she breathed, looking at me with dull, glazed eyes, her posture hunched and submissive as she stood. "I am cruel to myself. You are a dream of strangers' faces and open doors." She appeared to be suffering from a high fever, her skin pale, and covered in dark blotches.

"Is this darkspawn corruption? It looks…different," Alistair murmured, looking at the woman warily as her pain-glazed eyes remained fixed on me. She glanced up at the sound of his voice, nodding slowly.

"Corruption! The men did that! Their wounds festered and their minds left. They are like dogs, marched ahead, the first to die," she replied, staring at Alistair. She shuddered, hugging herself and staring at the ground. "Not us. Not me. Not Laryn. We are not cut. We are fed. Friends and flesh and blood and bile and…and…" she trailed off shutting her eyes and shivering. "All I could do was wish Laryn went first. I wished it upon her so that I would be spared. But I had to watch. I had to see the change. How do you endure that? How did Branka endure?" she whispered, and I felt a jolt of fear go through me. What had happened to this poor soul?

"What change? What are they doing?" I asked, my voice catching slightly with my fear, a chilling dread in the pit of my stomach.

"What they are allowed to do. What they think they must. And Branka… Her lover, and I could not turn her. Forgive her…but no, she cannot be forgiven. Not for what she did. Not for what she has become," the woman murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. I felt Oghren tensing next to me at her words, but he remained silent.

"What did she do, Hespith? What did Branka do?" I urged, and the woman shook her head.

"I will not speak of her! Of what she did, of what we have become! I will not turn! I will not become what I have seen! Not Laryn! Not Branka!" the woman said firmly, dashing past us into the tunnels. Once she had disappeared, we heard her voice echoing in the distance, repeating her chant once more from somewhere out of sight. "First day, they come and catch everyone…"

"There's worse to come. That woman, she's seen things a mortal mind can't grasp," Sten muttered quietly, looking down the hall Hespith had run.

"What she said…about a change…" I murmured, biting my lip. "What _happened_ here?"

"…'tis nothing good, evidently," Morrigan replied, looking around at the piles of flesh and bone scattered throughout the room.

"I do not look forward to seeing what lies ahead," Wynne added, and I nodded in agreement.

oooo

We left the room, following the hallways until they gave way to tunnels once more, the roughly-hewn walls covered in scratches. I could sense darkspawn on the other side of the walls, back in the fort, but I ignored them, concentrating on the eerie feeling of being watched – Hespith must have been following us, lurking in the shadows. The thought of her spying on us disturbed me more than any darkspawn could.

"Branka became obsessed… That is the word, but it is not strong enough. Blessed Stone, there was nothing left in her but the Anvil…" Hespith's voice echoed eerily through the tunnels, and everyone tensed, looking around.

"Creators guide us through this darkness… Dread Wolf follow in my shadow," I heard Neria murmur, her fingers wrapping tightly over a carved bone charm that she wore around her neck.

"We tried to escape, but they found us. They took us all, turned us… The men, they kill…they're merciful. But the women, they want. They want to touch, to mold, to change until you are filled with them…" Hespith whispered, and I shivered, a cold pit forming in my stomach as we continued.

"Oh Stone…" Katja mumbled and covered her mouth, looking ill as we passed by more of the diseased, fleshy-looking substance on the walls.

"They took Laryn. They made her eat the others, our friends. She tore off her husband's face and drank his blood," Hespith breathed, and Leliana bit her lip, clutching her bow nervously. Even Morrigan looked disturbed, and hardly anything seemed to bother her. "And while she ate, she grew. She swelled and turned gray and she smelled like them. They remade her in their image. Then she made more of them…"

oOo

Something moved up ahead of the group, just outside of the tunnel. It was big – very big – and it reeked of death and rotting flesh; Adeline and Alistair felt chills running up and down their spines as they neared, the buzzing sensation in the backs of their heads nearly shrieking an alarm at the closeness of this giant darkspawn. "Broodmother…" Hespith whispered.

The creature was gigantic, bigger than an ogre, with sagging skin hanging all over its body and multiple rows of breasts hanging down its front, like a female dog. It seemed to be immobile – the back half of its body was round, shaped like the shell of a snail, with long, fleshy tentacles snaking out from underneath. The ground was soft and fleshy around the creature's base, making squishing sounds beneath their feet as the group walked forward. At the sight, Adeline felt bile rise in her throat, and she heaved, covering her mouth and forcing back the vomit. The others looked ill as well, their faces pale and their lips drawn tight as they set their jaws.

The creature sniffed the air and turned her beady eyes towards the group, shrieking and waving her tentacles around; a swarm of darkspawn was suddenly upon them, protecting the broodmother as she cried out. Adeline swore under her breath and drew her blades, the group moving into a circular formation, keeping the mages and archers in the center as the darkspawn advanced upon them.

The ensuing battle was hellish – the darkspawn came in seemingly endless waves from every direction; it was as if the entire fort had come at the broodmother's call, trying to overwhelm them. Their battle formation didn't hold for long, and soon the group became separated, battling the darkspawn in pairs or trios as they fought not to be overwhelmed. Adeline yelped as she was dragged off a short way from Zevran and Katja, and the two gritted their teeth as they cut through the waves of enemies, trying to get to her.

Fear tore through her, making her limbs stiffen painfully; she wouldn't let them take her – she wouldn't let them make her like Laryn. Adeline felt the darkspawn biting and scratching her arms and legs as she thrashed around frantically, their jagged claws tearing long gashes in her leggings and sleeves as they beat at her armor. They battered her around as they crushed the Elf with their bodies, piling on top of her to subdue the screaming girl. She stabbed wildly, shrieking and slashing at the beasts from her spot on the ground as they tore at her clothes, blood splattering the woman and getting into her eyes, blinding her as the blood and demonic ichor burned.

"Warden!" she could hear faintly, over the screams of the darkspawn, hearing glass shattering and the intense heat as Katja threw a fire grenade at the darkspawn. They shrieked, and the weight of the pile lessened slightly as a few turned to fight; Adeline took the opportunity and struggled out of the pile, squirming her shoulders as she squeezed out from between the bodies of scorched darkspawn. Zevran and Katja were fighting with their backs to her, holding off the darkspawn so that she could clamber free, but there were too many of them – the pair of rogues wouldn't last long without support from the warriors or mages.

Adeline felt something tighten around her leg, and was suddenly dragged out from under the pile of darkspawn, her sword wrenched from her grip as she hung upside-down in the air, swinging wildly. The broodmother had grabbed her ankle with one of her tentacles, and waved Adeline around like a ragdoll, using her body as a weapon against her own allies. The girl was thrown into Morrigan and Jowan, disrupting their spells, and then dragged back into the air and used to knock Olan off of a genlock as the hound tore out the darkspawn's throat.

Adeline heard the broodmother screech, and the Elf dropped like a stone as the tentacle holding her was severed; Sten stood at the base and caught her as she fell, setting her down carefully and placing a steadying hand on her back. "Thank you, Sten," Adeline managed, clutching at her middle; she didn't believe anything was broken, but her body was trembling in pain. Sten nodded quickly and suddenly thrust his blade behind him, impaling a hurlock that had tried to come up behind him while his back was turned. He guarded the Elf as she caught her breath, looking around at the battle.

She stared up at the broodmother as she screeched, looking back to see Leliana and Zevran climbing up the creature's body, stabbing at the thick neck and trying to kill it. Neria, Oghren and Alistair were slashing at tentacles nearby, switching their focus between the broodmother and the darkspawn that were still swarming into the room. "Watch the tentacles!" Adeline hollered up to the rogues, gasping as Leliana yelped with surprise, the creature slapping at her and throwing her off with one of the tentacles. She flew across the room, and Adeline ran after her to catch the girl, tripping over a dead darkspawn and crashing into her before she hit the ground, just barely softening the impact.

They rolled for a few feet before Adeline let out a hiss of pain. Leliana sat up quickly, staggering over to the girl. "Adeline!" Leliana cried as the Elf gasped for breath, clutching at her ribs – she had landed awkwardly on her side, and felt a muscle pulled taught along her ribcage before it started burning like hellfire. Zevran gave up stabbing at the broodmother's throat as she concentrated her barrage of tentacles on him, sliding down and guarding the mages with Sten as they began hurling spells at the darkspawn's head.

"Ugh, _sod!_ " Adeline wheezed with each breath, her body shuddering in agony – it was hard to breathe, as if her lungs weren't filling up all the way, and she felt sharp pain along the lower parts of her ribcage when she moved. "I really screwed up this time," she choked out with a crooked smile, and Leliana made a face, stopping Adeline from trying to sit up.

"This isn't time for jokes, Adeline!" Leliana exclaimed, and the Elf gave a small, pained chuckle, cringing again as her ribs throbbed.

"Don't…don't turn your back…" Adeline gasped out ragged breaths, pointing behind Leliana, towards the darkspawn. The rogue turned around and lashed out with her hunting knife, catching a large shriek as it leapt for her. She staggered under the weight, falling to the ground as Adeline struggled to sit up and help. Leliana stabbed relentlessly at the darkspawn's chest, a gloved hand holding back the beast's angled head as it tried to snap at her. Gore splattered her terrified face, her mouth contorted in a grimace as she continued to stab into its chest and throat until the lanky darkspawn shuddered and fell dead at her side.

"Maker's _breath_ ," Leliana gasped, placing a hand over her heart – she had never faced an Alpha on her own, and it was the first time she had ever seen a shriek Alpha, besides. She turned back to look at Adeline, who was struggling to take in sharp, ragged breaths, foaming at the mouth as her eyes reddened with strain. "Wynne! She can't breathe!" Leliana called, fighting through the darkspawn toward Wynne and helping the old woman to her side. Katja had heard her words as well, standing by and taking darkspawn down with carefully placed shots to their heads.

"Look out!" Adeline hissed, drawing her red-steel knife and throwing it, hitting a genlock between the eyes as it got behind Wynne. Everything turned hazy and the room spun around her as her vision swam, the images spotted with red and black, sounds echoing in the distance as she grew dizzy from lack of air.

Adeline stared around the room – everyone was still fighting desperately, but they were losing; there were too many darkspawn, and as she watched, Alistair and Oghren were overwhelmed, and Morrigan, Zevran and Sten were barely keeping the creatures back. Neria roared and charged through a clump of darkspawn as they jumped on top of Jowan, and they swarmed about her as she swung her blade wildly. As Wynne healed Adeline, a shrieking drew Leliana and Olan's attention, and darkspawn leapt at them, tackling them down and scratching with long, deadly claws. Katja went down just as she threw a grenade, and it exploded, burning a large clump of darkspawn nearby. _I can't…I can't let this happen. Not again. Never again._

The Elf sat up suddenly, ignoring the sharp pain and the dizziness and clenching her teeth as her blood boiled through her veins. She staggered to her feet, trembling in agony as she fought to breathe, a strange strength seeping into her body. A change came over Adeline as she felt her thoughts slow, coolness washing over her being. She was deadly silent, her senses heightened as everything around her became strikingly clear and sharp. She became angry, then, and let out a roar for everything to stop, the sound so loud that every darkspawn in the chamber turned to stare at her; they actually stopped what they were doing, letting out small hisses and growls as they looked on.

What stood before them wasn't an Elf – they could sense that much; its skin was pale, like death, and it smelled sharp and powerful and dangerous…but at the same time they wanted it. They wanted to touch this creature, as they wished to touch their master and feel the joy of his embrace. This not-Elf's eyes were green and piercing, its pupils narrow slits, and its hair seemed to move about on its own, like a roaring flame about the deathly calm face. They wanted those eyes – they wanted the green gaze to turn on them, to look upon them with favor. The creature took a slow step forward, and the darkspawn hissed and chattered softly in the quiet of the room, the only other sounds the faint whimpering of the broodmother, and the groans of the not-Elf's companions.

Adeline leapt forward, plowing into the creatures and tearing them apart with her bare hands, darkspawn limbs flying everywhere as blood splattered across her face and hair. It took the darkspawn a moment to realize that she was attacking them, and they screeched, clawing at the woman and swarming about her, trying to overwhelm this strange attacker. Adeline wrenched the creatures off her companions, helping them get to their feet before returning to the fray.

"By the ancestors!" Oghren shouted when he saw her, watching as the Elf tore the head off of a genlock, spraying blood across her face and hair. "Is that _you_ , Warden?"

Adeline didn't answer him; her mind was hazed with pure rage, but her expression was a blank, emotionless mask. She grabbed a jagged splinter of bone from the ground, using it like a knife and stabbing any darkspawn that neared her. She wheezed, her sides heaving in pain as her injury caught up to her, her breaths shallow and ragged. Still, she fought on, slamming relentlessly into the darkspawn and dragging her companions back to their feet.

Her distraction allowed everyone to regain their positions, and the tide of the battle turned. As the number of darkspawn dwindled, Adeline charged for the broodmother, snarling and tearing at her as she clawed her way to the head, blood pouring down the creature's front as the Elf dragged the shard of bone across the darkspawn's skin, the creature howling in agony and rage.

The broodmother screamed, flailing at Adeline with her pudgy arms as the girl latched onto the thick skin around her throat, her nails digging into the soft flesh as the darkspawn beat at the Elf with long tentacles. One of them wrapped around Adeline, dragging her from the broodmother's throat as she clawed at the creature's face, the darkspawn shrieking in pain. Adeline stabbed the bone fragment deep into her neck, the broodmother gurgling and flailing about as she choked on her own blood. She threw Adeline across the room and the girl let out a yelp as she hit a wall, hearing a loud, alarming snap from her left arm on impact.

Adeline sank to the ground, landing in a heap and gasping for breath, her muscles twitching as she tried to move. Between the intense pain and the lack of air, her vision swam, and she struggled to her feet, wobbling dizzily and staggering, her sides heaving. She vomited, the yellow pool mixed orange as she spat up blood, shivering and breaking into a cold sweat. She managed to collect herself enough to limp over to the others as they stared up at the broodmother, the beast screeching pitifully as it died, and they looked further up to see Hespith standing on a tall ledge, high above the creature's head.

"That's where they come from," she said quietly, her voice strained. "That's why they hate us...that's why they need us. That's why they take us…that's why they feed us…" Hespith breathed, her dull eyes looking down at the broodmother in pain, shaking her head sadly and hugging herself. "But the true abomination…is not that it occurred, but that it was allowed. Branka…my love… The Stone has punished me, dream-friends. I am dying of something worse than death. Betrayal." At her final words, Hespith closed her eyes, holding her arms wide and falling down into the chasm behind her, letting the darkness take her.

"Well…that was intense…" Adeline muttered, collapsing in a heap, unable to breathe.

"Adeline!" Alistair yelled, running over and kneeling by the girl's side, not knowing how to help. She was curled up in a fetal position, blood and foam on her lips as she gasped for breath, and Alistair stared at her in fright, looking back at Wynne as the old woman hurried over.

"Nnn…left arm's broken…ribs too, maybe…" Adeline gasped, letting out a small wail of pain as she tried to move, shutting her eyes tightly.

"Shh…don't try to move," Alistair murmured, and Adeline slowly opened her eyes, looking up at him in agony. He took one of her hands as he sat by her side, gripping her fingers tightly and giving her hand an encouraging squeeze.

"Here, let me see to her," Wynne said gently, kneeling down and placing her hands lightly on Adeline's side, pressing on her ribs. She yelped, and Olan trotted over and sat by the Elf's head, whining softly and nuzzling her cheek.

Adeline let out a long sigh of relief, feeling Wynne's magic setting her ribs back into place, the pain fading. She sat up slowly, leaning against Alistair as Wynn tended to her arm, cringing as she inspected it. "Do you…have any idea what happened?" Adeline asked, gritting her teeth as Wynne slowly turned her arm over. She gripped Alistair's forearm tightly with her right hand, and he pressed his lips into her hair as she leaned back against him.

"No. That was…strange," Wynne remarked quietly, her magic soothing the girl's arm. "Here, I'll make a sling for you, but you shouldn't fight unless it is absolutely necessary," she added, wrapping Adeline's arm and hanging it in a sling. "What you did…you were tearing darkspawn apart with your bare hands," Wynne remarked, and Adeline nodded.

"Right. It's…it's like back in the tower, only I was lucid this time," she replied, puzzled. "And…Leliana, didn't something like this happen back in Dust Town? In the carta's hideout?" she added, and Leliana nodded. Adeline gritted her teeth as her arm pained her, trying to get up.

"You should rest while you can," Wynne said gently, and Adeline nodded, letting out a soft sigh and leaning back against Alistair, who wrapped his arms very delicately around her, resting his cheek against her left temple.

Oghren was staring at Adeline in silence, wondering what he had just seen; an Elf maiden had just torn the heads off of a swarm of darkspawn with her bare hands. In all his years, Oghren had seen some strange things, but nothing like _that_. He muttered something under his breath, glancing down at Olan as the hound trotted over to him, looking at the Dwarf with curious brown eyes. "Mad Elf indeed," the Dwarf mumbled, taking a long drink from his flask and letting out a belch, grinning as Morrigan hissed with distaste nearby.

"Is everyone else alright? That was brutal," Adeline asked, looking around at the others, who nodded. They had a few injuries, mostly cuts and bites from the darkspawn, as well as a few burns from Katja's stray grenades. As Wynne made her rounds, healing them, Alistair closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh and pressing his lips against Adeline's left temple, kissing her scar. "You okay?" the girl asked gently, looking up at him, and he nodded, his eyes going over her carefully, concern clear on his face. He ran a hand lightly along the Elf's jaw, letting out a small breath as she placed a hand over his.

"That could have gone much worse," he breathed, and she nodded grimly.

"What Hespith said, about the broodmother…and about Branka… Something _very_ wrong is happening here," Adeline concluded.

"I think so too. How darkspawn are made… I never knew. I don't think many people do," he murmured, looking at the creature's grey body, the flesh hanging down lifelessly, blood dripping down around it.

"I'm beginning to wish I _didn't_ know. It makes me shiver, thinking about what those poor women must have endured," Adeline whispered, closing her eyes and shaking her head slowly. Alistair gently moved his arm over her shoulder, careful not to press down on her broken arm as he turned her chin towards him. When she opened her eyes, he could see fear in them – she had been terrified during this battle, for she had seen what could happen if she, or any of their other female companions fell into darkspawn hands.

"We'll make it through this, Adeline. I promise," Alistair breathed, gently pressing his forehead against hers, and she sighed, looking at him with a sad smile.

"I hope so. I don't know how much more we can take, and we're nowhere _close_ to being ready to face the archdemon," she whispered, closing her eyes as resting back against him as she tried to settle down her nervous shivering.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

So, funny story - I'm actually taking a class at university called Death and the Afterlife in literature, and it's meant to explore death and how those remaining deal with it. I thought it was hilarious in hindsight, given that some of the major themes of Dragon Age: Origins are death, grief and sacrifice. Just thought I'd share that.


	29. Chapter 29: Darkest Darkness

Chapter 29

Darkest Darkness

Author's note:

Almost there – one more Orzammar chapter to go

Also, oh my gosh! 1000 views! This makes me so happy~ Thank you all so much for reading, and remember, reviews are welcome!

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Alistair helped me find my blades, hidden among the darkspawn bodies, and once the others had been treated for their injuries, we headed off, continuing down a side-tunnel, leaving the Dead Trenches and the broodmother behind. As we headed deeper into the tunnel, I noticed that Oghren kept casting glances at me every few moments, and I sighed. _Great. Now he thinks I'm going to rip his head off or something._

"I'm not going to hurt you Oghren," I muttered sourly, catching his look, and he snorted.

"I've just never seen an Elf tear a darkspawn's head clean off before," the Dwarf replied, seeming more impressed than wary, and I raised an eyebrow. Before I could say anything, I glanced up, hearing something ahead.

"Hmm…someone's been through these tunnels recently," Neria remarked, seeing traces of recent activity nearby, and Alistair narrowed his eyes, looking into the dark tunnel.

"And I just felt darkspawn up ahead…wait…the taint just disappeared. Do you think someone's over there killing them?" he asked, and I shrugged slightly, cringing as it sent a twinge of pain through my arm.

As we exited the tunnel coming to an open cavern, we heard a faint grating sound behind us. "What was that?" Oghren asked, and we all jumped as hidden stone doors slammed shut, trapping us in the cave. I looked up ahead as a Dwarf woman appeared before us, standing on a raised platform behind tall stone barricades. She had dark-brown hair and strong, proud eyes – stern and guarded, but vibrant with intelligence.

"Let me be blunt with you. After all this time, my tolerance for social graces is fairly limited. That doesn't bother you, I hope," she said, her tone rough as she held a crossbow up, training it on us as she stared our group down.

"Shave my back and call me an Elf! _Branka?_ By the Stone, I barely recognized you!" Oghren grinned, and the woman looked down at him, unimpressed.

"Oghren. It figures you'd eventually find your way here. Hopefully, you can find your way back more easily," Branka said shortly, returning her attention to me, her eyes lingering on my injury. "And how shall I address _you?_ Hired sword of the latest lordling to come looking for me? Or just the only one who didn't mind Oghren's ale-breath?" she asked, and Oghren made an angry sound.

"Be respectful, woman! You're talking to a Grey Warden!" Oghren said, and Branka raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, so an _important_ errand boy, then. I suppose something serious has happened. Is Endrin dead? That seems most likely. He was on the old and wheezy side," Branka remarked, looking down at her crossbow, evidently not concerned with anything going on in Orzammar.

"How do you know I'm not just helping Oghren?" I asked, and the woman snorted derisively, shaking her head.

"Because _nobody_ helps Oghren. At best, Oghren's need to find me happened to coincide with the needs of someone more important," she retorted.

"Arrrgh! You are _impossible!_ This Grey Warden's come all the way from the surface to ask your help picking Endrin's successor," Oghren yelled, angry at his wife's standoffish attitude.

"I don't care if the Assembly puts a drunken _monkey_ on the throne," Branka replied, tapping the crossbow lightly against her palm. "Our protector, our great invention, the thing that once made our armies the envy of the world, is lost to the very darkspawn it should be fighting. The Anvil of the Void – the means by which the ancients forged their army of golems and held off the first archdemon ever to rise. It's here. So close I can taste it," she breathed, her eyes sparking with desire.

At the mention of the Anvil, Oghren's eyes grew distant. He looked almost…ill at the thought of it. _Okay, this_ _ **has**_ _to be something about that journal we found in Ortan Thaig,_ I thought, watching him carefully. "But of course there's a catch. Why wouldn't there be?" I muttered sourly, and Branka glanced back at me.

"The Anvil lies on the other side of a gauntlet of traps designed by Caridin himself. My people and I have given body and soul to unlocking its secrets," Branka explained, and I tensed, clenching my teeth at her words. " _This_ is what's important. _This_ has lasting meaning. If I succeed, the Dwarven people benefit. Kings, politics…all that is transitory. I've given up everything, and would sacrifice _anything_ to get the Anvil of the Void."

"Does that include Hespith and the others of your house?" I growled, my jaw tight as I glared up at the woman.

"Enough questions!" she said sharply, waving an arm dismissively. "If you wish me to get involved with this imbecilic election, I must first have the Anvil. There is only one way out, Warden; forward. Through Caridin's maze and out to where the Anvil waits." I glared at her, furious – she was planning to use _us_ to test the traps!

"What has this place done to you!? I remember marrying a girl you could talk to for one minute and see her brilliance," Oghren yelled, and Branka looked down at him coolly and unflinchingly.

"I am your Paragon," she said, walking out of our view. I glared after her, making a displeased sound and looking back at Oghren witheringly.

"Heh. Good ol' Branka," he said awkwardly as he tugged at one of his braids, seeing my angry look. "She's a bit, uh, abrasive, isn't she? Guess I forgot that part about her screeching in my ear every sodding day," he muttered. "Ah, well. We'll help her get the Anvil, and then she'll come home and everything will be better," he added, and I sighed, relenting.

We walked around the barricades Branka had set up, coming to a flat, open area. Branka was looking down at us from the raised platform, watching us carefully. "I needed people to test Caridin's traps. There is no way to break through except by trial and error," she explained as we saw the bodies of Dwarves and darkspawn lying scattered about the area. "I sent them in… They were all mine, pledged to be my house, and they didn't want to help. They tried to leave me, even my Hespith… But even _she_ couldn't understand that when you reach for greatness, there are sacrifices. As many sacrifices as are needed," the woman muttered, and I felt a chill run up my back at her words.

"You used them to…" I trailed off, staring up at her.

"She shouldn't have gone. She was pledged to me. She swore she'd do whatever it took to find the Anvil," Branka said absently, not seeming to hear me. "There was no other choice. Most of them were dying of the taint already, but some…some of the women were…transforming. I knew what they would become; there would be an endless supply, fresh darkspawn to test the traps. They could still serve me, let me find the Anvil. It was the only way…" Branka was talking to herself, staring off into the distance. I looked up at her, horrified as I listened to her words.

"She bred her people into darkspawn. She is mad," Wynne breathed, her voice quiet, but with a layer of controlled anger underneath.

"She's lost herself. She sacrificed our kin to breed darkspawn decoys. Can even the anvil bring her back?" I heard Oghren say, talking to himself. There was a hint of doubt in his eyes as he looked up at his wife, and I felt pity; she was no longer the Branka that he knew.

oooo

We passed through a long, twisting hallway filled with darkspawn corpses, the stench making me cringe. The tunnel was a tight fit, and I fought to keep calm as we walked single-file, feeling very uncomfortable in the tight space. Alistair kept his hand on my back the entire time, trying to comfort me, and I thanked him, appreciating his understanding. We came to a room with golems standing in a line on either side of the hall, as if they were waiting to salute a procession passing through. The room had a faint, green-yellow tinge, and we stood outside, looking in warily. "That is likely poisonous," Morrigan remarked simply, "but its potency is yet to be seen."

"Hmm…I can see valves in the corners of the room," Zevran observed, pointing out four large valves.

"You're not planning to–" Zevran cut me off with a look.

"I am going to do exactly as _you_ would in this situation, dear Warden." I glared at him, setting my jaw. "Ah, you see how frustrating it is, yes?" he teased, and I snorted.

"Just don't die," I muttered. Leliana, Katja and Neria offered to help, and the four covered their mouths, taking a deep breath before dashing in. They ran to the four corners of the room, finding valves and turning them. The golems rumbled to life at their approach, but the three rogues and warrior ignored them, quickly shutting off the valves and running back, ducking as Morrigan and Jowan held off the golems with magic. Wynne checked them over for any poisoning, but all four had managed to hold their breath until they had left the room.

A faint hissing sound echoed around the room, and the air cleared, the yellow-green gas draining away through small pipes in the walls. The two mages defeated the golems, freezing and shattering them, as they had back in Ortan Thaig; I asked Wynne to reserve her mana for healing, in case anything went wrong – we were running low on lyrium potions, and Morrigan and Jowan were more than capable of handling a few golems. After passing a second hallway with golems, these remaining inactive as we neared, we came to a large, open area with exposed lyrium veins sticking out of the ground.

A strange contraption stood in the center of the room, on a raised platform; it was a statue of four faces carved onto a large, rotating pillar, the mouths open in angry roars. Before each face stood an anvil, pitch black, with strange symbols in blue carved into the sides. At our approach, the anvils flashed, glowing blue and white, and the eyes on the statues lit up, shining purple.

"Maker's breath, what _is_ this contraption?" Jowan gasped as the statue rumbled, spinning around and letting out an eerie groan. A faint, glowing entity appeared next to each anvil, staring at us, but doing nothing else.

"Fascinating…" Wynne murmured, staring at the statue with curiosity in her eyes.

"What do you think we're supposed to do?" I wondered, looking at the contraption carefully. "Do you think we need to do something with those anvils?" I suggested, and Wynne crossed her arms, deep in thought.

"Perhaps. Those spirits might attack if we approach, however. You should stay back here, Adeline," she added, giving me a no-nonsense look when she saw my frustrated expression. I sighed, biting my lip.

"I _hate_ not being able to do anything," I muttered, watching as the others approached the contraption carefully. Leliana dashed in quickly, grabbing a small hammer that rested against one of the anvils, cracking it down hard on the surface. A glowing ball of energy shot out of the anvil, launching itself at one of the faces and crashing into the eyes. The statue let out a terrifying moan, and the spirits near the anvils yelled, attacking.

The others protected Leliana as she ran past the spirits, crashing the hammer down on each of the anvils and launching a glowing orb at the different faces of the statue. When she had hit all four anvils, the statue rumbled, the eyes changing from glowing purple to blue, and the spirits shrieked, vanishing in a blue mist. The apparatus made a loud grating sound as it rotated, and the anvils began glowing once more.

Leliana repeated her pattern of running around the spirits while the others distracted them, hitting the anvils. The next time all of the anvils were struck, the statue's eyes began _bleeding_ , and it let out a horrific wail, a blast of energy knocking everyone off their feet – I could feel the shockwave even from here. The contraption began shooting small orbs of energy at my companions, knocking them off balance as they tried to keep the spirits away from Leliana.

She ran around the statue once more, the anvils turning black for an instant before glowing cherry red, bursting into a thousand pieces as the statue's eyes went dark, the apparatus slowing and grinding to a halt, falling silent. I looked at them anxiously, trotting over with Morrigan, Jowan and Wynne, asking if they were hurt.

"I wish I could have done _something_ ," I sighed, and Alistair smiled, patting my cheek.

"Just let us handle everything – don't strain your arm," he said, and I nodded, still frustrated that I couldn't help.

"That's what I get for being reckless, I guess," I grumbled, following them as we headed towards another tunnel. Branka was following a good distance behind us, her crossbow at the ready, eyes sweeping about for any sign of danger.

oooo

We came to a grand cavern, stretching out for miles, perhaps – we were at the top of a wide bluff, with a river of magma flowing far below. High up, at the tip of the bluff, was a glowing anvil, ribbed with shining veins of lyrium. Rows of stone golems stood before us, lining a path to where a larger, steel golem stood. At our approach, the steel golem walked forward slowly, speaking.

"My name is Caridin. Once, longer ago than I care to think, I was a Paragon to the Dwarves of Orzammar. If you seek the Anvil, then you must care about my story, or be doomed to relive it," the golem said in a deep, echoing voice, and my eyes widened in surprise.

"Wait… _Caridin?_ _The_ Caridin? The one who built Bownammar?" Katja asked in disbelief, and the golem nodded.

"Though I made many things in my time, I rose to fame and earned my status based on a single item; the Anvil of the Void. It allowed me to forge a man of steel or stone, as flexible and clever as any soldier. As an army, they were invincible," the golem confirmed, and I stared at him in wonder. "But I told no one the cost. No mere smith, however skilled, has the power to create life. To make my golems live, I had to take their lives from elsewhere…" Caridin added, and I felt a slow, creeping cold forming in my chest as I realized what he was implying.

 _Wait…did…did Oghren_ _ **know**_ _about this? Is that what that journal was about?_ I glanced back at Oghren with wide eyes, and he saw my look, glancing away with guilt on his face, confirming my suspicion. "A dire shortcut. Was it worth it?" Wynne asked, coming to the same conclusion that I had. The golem nodded, his voice echoing with remorse.

"So said my king. I had only intended to use volunteers, but he was not satisfied…and soon a river of blood flowed out of this place," he said, shame and regret in his tone. "King Valtor became greedy. He began to force men…casteless and criminals…his political enemies…all of them were to be given to the anvil. Finally, it was too much – I refused. And so Valtor had me put on the Anvil, next. It took feeling the hammer's blow myself to realize the height of my crimes," Caridin explained, and I let out a shaky breath.

"How cruel…" Leliana murmured, covering her mouth.

"What now? Do you want revenge?" Neria asked, and Caridin shook his head.

"Not revenge. The blow of the hammer opened my eyes. My apprentices knew enough to make me as I am, but not enough to fashion a control rod. I retained my mind," he explained. _That_ must have been why he was speaking to us like this; the other golems that had attacked us only let out angry roars – nothing coherent. "We have remained entombed here ever since, and I have sought a way to destroy the Anvil. Alas, I cannot do it myself. No golem can touch it," Caridin added, and I glanced up behind him toward the precipice where the anvil sat, glowing faintly as the veins of lyrium pulsed through it.

Branka trotted into the cave behind us, glaring at Caridin with disgust when he mentioned destroying the anvil. "No! The Anvil is mine! No one will take it from me!" she nearly shrieked, staring up at the glowing anvil with a mix of greed and madness in her eyes.

"You! Please…help me destroy the Anvil! Do not let it enslave more souls than it already has!" Caridin cried, his voice fearful at Branka's approach.

"Don't listen! He's been trapped here for a thousand years, stewing in his own madness. Help me claim the Anvil, and you will have an army like you've never seen!" Branka shouted, trying to get my support. Oghren was staring at her with disbelief, and he glared at his wife.

"Branka, you mad, bleeding nug-tail. Does this thing mean so much to you that you can't even see what you've lost to get it?" he argued, but the madwoman ignored his plea, her eyes crazed with desire.

"Look around. Is this what our empire should look like? A crumbling tunnel filled with darkspawn spume? The Anvil will let us take back our glory!" she yelled, waving her arm and indicating the ruined tunnels at her back.

"The Anvil enslaves living souls. It must be destroyed," I said, placing my hand on my saber, looking at the woman steadily as she glared at me.

"Have you no desire to discover this anvil's potential? It is a marvel, a tool of creation!" Morrigan piped up, and I glanced back at her in disbelief.

"Even the best of tools may be misused. This is a thing of blood magic, of destruction," Wynne replied, trying to reason with her.

"Sometimes creation involves the destruction of one thing to make way for another. 'Tis a law of nature that death is the parent to life. You could rival the Maker Himself with this instrument!" Morrigan argued, and I felt my jaw tighten at her words, shaking my head firmly.

"I have no wish to tread on the toes of my god, Morrigan. I will not enslave people's souls by trapping them like this," I said, and she shook her head, thinking me foolish for ignoring the Anvil's potential.

"Living souls suffer all the time. Peasants working the land are trapped, but we do not go about destroying farmland, do we?" Zevran argued, and I shot him an incredulous look as well. _Maker's_ _ **breath**_ _you two!_

"Farmers don't toil in the fields for all eternity. That's _hardly_ a valid comparison!" Alistair yelled, his voice hard with anger.

"It just seems a waste to destroy the Anvil, given what it could do," Zevran replied, and I bit my lip.

"If you destroy the Anvil, I swear you will regret it," Morrigan added, and I let out a quiet breath, my eyes hardening. I glared at the two levelly, staring them down.

"Fine then; you are welcome to it. Come along, I'll hammer out your new bodies myself," I offered, my tone like ice. They stared at me in disbelief, and I saw a hint of fear flash through their eyes at my frigid calm.

"You would not dare!" Morrigan hissed, taking a small step back.

"Oh? But you seem so eager to let _others_ suffer this, dearest Morrigan. If I cared only for power, would I not drag you to the Anvil this very moment, and carry out my threat?" I replied, and she made a face at me.

"Alright, alright. Perhaps destroying it _is_ a good idea," Zevran said quickly, raising his hands in peace as he wavered under my glare.

"Thank you, stranger. Your compassion shames me," Caridin sighed, and I looked back at Branka as she made a frustrated sound.

"No! You will not take it! Not while I still live!" the woman yelled, and Oghren threw his hands in the air.

"Branka! Don't throw your life away for this!" he cried, but his wife ignored him, staring up at the Anvil behind us, ignoring all else.

"We _have_ to destroy it, Branka! _Nothing_ is worth the Anvil's price!" I argued, but the woman didn't seem to hear me.

"Just _give_ her the blasted thing! She's confused…maybe once she calms down, we can talk to her!" Oghren argued, and I shook my head firmly at the frustrated Dwarf.

"For all we know, she'll make _you_ into a golem to test the damned thing!" I replied.

"Bah! You are not the only master smith here, Caridin! Golems, obey me! Attack!" Branka cried, holding up a long, metal and stone rod above her head. The golems around Caridin shuddered at her call, their heads turning to face us.

"A control rod! But…my friend, you must help me! I cannot stop her alone!" Caridin cried. A faint blue crackle surrounded him, and his body stiffened, his voice echoing and fading away as his head twitched.

"Branka!" Oghren shouted, but the woman ignored him, waving the control rod towards us. The golems charged, roaring fiercely, and we scattered, not wanting to get crushed by them.

We fought desperately, but we were exhausted from all the traveling and constant battles with the darkspawn, as well as fighting through Caridin's traps. I did my best to fight with one hand, finding that with my strange new strength, I was just powerful enough to stop a golem in its tracks if I timed my hits right, catching the creature's fist with my open palm and using its weight against it as I sidestepped, hurling the golem over the edge of the bluff as it lost its balance. Morrigan, Jowan and Wynne were freezing the golems, but their mana was nearly spent, and had to fall back behind Sten and Alistair as they held off the giant stone soldiers. Jowan could last a little longer by substituting blood magic for mana, but I shouted for him to stop, not wanting him to faint in the midst of battle.

"You're in my way!" Branka shrieked at me, charging with her sword drawn and ramming me with her shield as I was busy holding off a golem. I yelped as she shoved hard against my broken arm, tears of pain in the corners of my eyes as I fell to the ground, scrambling to my feet and leaping back as she slashed at me. "All of my toils, my sacrifices! How can you throw them away like that?" she roared, her eyes red-rimmed, and glazed with madness.

"You sacrificed your entire clan!" I yelled back, dodging her blade and limping now – when she knocked me down, I had rolled my ankle, and I felt a shooting pain lance up my leg when I put my full weight on it. Golems screamed and fell as Morrigan turned into a giant bear, wrestling with the stone men and bowling them over the edge of the bluff. Branka glanced up for a moment as Oghren yelled, charging her.

"What is _wrong_ with you, woman?" he cried, blocking her blade with the haft of his axe, his eyes reddening with fury. Branka laughed cruelly at him, kicking him hard in the chest and looming over him, her foot pressed down on his axe.

"Oghren, you miserable excuse for a Dwarf," she sneered, shaking her head. "You've lost your touch if even a _smith_ can put you down." Unable to defend himself, Oghren stared up at her; his eyes got a sudden calm look in them as Branka raised her blade, ready to plunge it into his chest.

"No!" I roared, ramming into the Dwarf woman and throwing her off balance. She staggered back, teetering over the edge of the bluff, and I swore, reaching out a hand to grab her sword-arm. "Branka!" I cried, just barely catching her wrist.

I slammed down hard on my side, hanging half-way over the edge of the bluff, crying out in pain as my already sore ribs ached, and my broken arm throbbed. Her hand was slipping, and I gritted my teeth, trying to pull her up with one arm. "Drop the sodding control rod and grab the ledge!" I shrieked, almost begging, but Branka shook her head, gripping the rod tighter as she held it with her shield-arm.

"Never!" she growled. I began sliding forward, tipping over the edge as the weight of Branka's armor and shield dragged us down. I felt strong arms grabbing my waist, and Oghren dragged me backwards, pulling the two of us back onto the bluff. As soon as she regained her feet, though, Branka stabbed at me – I just barely managed to roll out of the way as her blade stuck into the ground where I had been a moment before.

"Branka! Snap _out_ of it!" Oghren yelled. As Branka charged at him, trying to ram him over the edge of the cliff, I threw my knife at her, hitting the woman in the chest. Branka froze, staring down at the throwing knife that protruded from her heart, dropping the control rod. It rolled a short way, and I kicked it, sending the thing flying out into the magma below. Branka's body stiffened for a moment, and she stared at me in disbelief, her eyes rolling back in her head as she collapsed in a heap.

The bluff was silent; the golems shuddered as the control rod was destroyed, and Caridin creaked back to life, able to move as he was released from whatever had bound him. He walked over slowly, looking at us and seeing the ashen look on my face as I stared at Branka's body. Oghren was silent beside me, and I looked at him sadly as he shook his head in disbelief.

"You…you _killed_ her…" he rumbled, staring at me with red-rimmed eyes, his face contorting in fury.

"She was mad. She was going to kill _you_ to get that damned Anvil," I argued weakly, and Oghren let out an angry roar, punching me hard across the face and knocking me to the ground. The others rushed over, grabbing the irate Dwarf before he could do anything else.

I let out a soft breath, wiping my split lip and spitting out blood, shaking my head. "No, leave him. I deserved that," I sighed, cringing and getting to my feet, lightly touching my broken arm, the limb throbbing in pain again after Branka had rammed me with her shield.

They let Oghren go once he had calmed down a bit, and Caridin looked between us, his voice full of regret as he spoke. "Another life lost because of my invention. I wish no mention of it had made it into history."

"Yeah, you ain't kidding. Stupid woman! Always knew the Anvil would kill her," Oghren muttered darkly, shaking his head and glaring up at the precipice where the Anvil sat, pulsating faintly as lyrium flowed through it, indifferent to the bloodshed and suffering around it.

"But at least it ends here. I thank you for standing with me, stranger. The Anvil waits there for you to shatter it," Caridin said, walking slowly from the ledge, and I followed, limping along behind him. "Is there any boon I can grant you for your aid? A final favor before I am freed from my burden?" he asked, and I gave a quiet sigh. Branka was gone, but we still needed the help of a Paragon to convince the Assembly of Bhelen's right to the throne. I paused, though, seeing Oghren looking down at Branka's body sadly, and I nodded to Caridin.

"Oghren?" I called, and he glanced up, walking over at my call. "You lost Branka to this; it's the least I can do," I said, and he looked slightly surprised at my offer.

"Huh. Don't suppose you can bring Branka back? Maybe make her a golem, like you?" Oghren asked, and Caridin shook his head firmly.

"I would not do such a thing to her even if I could," the Paragon replied, and Oghren sighed, nodding.

"Somehow I didn't think so. Then I don't want anything that would remind me of…this. Best it's just done," the Dwarf said, looking up at the Anvil with loathing. "There… _is_ still the matter of the election. I mean…we still need a Paragon to get the Assembly's support, right?" he added, glancing back at Caridin.

"For the aid you've given me, I shall put hammer to steel one last time, and give you a crown for the king of your choice," Caridin promised. Oghren and I followed him up the slope to where the Anvil sat, standing a safe distance and watching with interest as the smith began his work.

Metal seemed to pour from the Anvil itself, and a crown of gold and platinum slowly formed under the blows of Caridin's hammer. It was a masterful work, and the smith handed me the shining crown carefully once it had cooled enough for me to touch. "There. It is done. Give it to whom you will," the Paragon said, and I thanked him gratefully for it.

"I will destroy the Anvil, as agreed," I said, handing Oghren the crown as Caridin gave me his hammer.

"That would please me, Elf," the golem replied, watching as I gripped the handle of the hammer, bracing myself.

"Nnn…this is going to hurt…" I muttered to myself, holding the hammer out. I let out a yell, swinging the hammer over my head and crashing it down on the Anvil of the Void. The Anvil gave an earsplitting clang, cracking along the lyrium veins from the force of my hit, shattering and bursting into a thousand pieces, scattering like blue fireflies. My arm shuddered and I fell to my knees, my body weak and trembling from using so much strength. Caridin stood silently next to me, nodding slowly as the glowing blue flecks of lyrium floated away on the hot air that rose up from the magma below.

"You have my eternal thanks, stranger. Atrast nal tunsha…may you always find your way in the dark…" Caridin said, standing at the edge of the bluff. He held his arms out, falling forward into the magma below, ending his long, pain-filled life at last.

I slowly got to my feet, walking down the slope with Oghren and joining the others, sobered and silent. "Well, that pretty much beat the sod out of how I imagined it. You ready to head back yet and share the news?" Oghren asked, and I shook my head, glancing around the bluff, seeing a set of carved golem statues nearby with plaques standing between them.

"I want to look around a little more," I replied, and Oghren grunted in assent, crossing his arms.

"Aye. I wouldn't be in any hurry to get back to the Assembly, either," he said, following me as I walked over to the statues, looking up at the carved Dwarvish runes curiously. Next to the writing, there were small seals, and I recognized a few as family crests I had seen in Orzammar.

"Um…Oghren?" I asked, and he nodded, looking up at me.

"Whatcha need, Warden?" he replied, and I indicated the carved plaques.

"Can you tell what this is?" He was quiet, scratching his chin and reading over the plaques in silence.

"Huh. Names. A long list of Dwarves. Err…hold on… 'We honor those who have made this sacrifice; let their names be remembered'," he read out loud, his eyes widening at the words. "Fart me a lullaby! It's a memorial…of all the dwarves who became golems! Has to be!" he exclaimed.

"Wow…there are so many of them…" Leliana remarked, having come over to see what we were doing.

"If there was some way of getting this back to the Shaperate in Orzammar, I'd bet they'd brown their trousers! And pay good gold for it. Probably both," Oghren said, and I bit my lip.

"I can try to write the names down, but it'll take me a few hours, at least," I said, and Leliana shrugged.

"I've got some paper and charcoal in my pack – I can take tracings instead," she offered, and I nodded in thanks, watching as she unrolled some papers and rubbed the charcoal stick across the sheets, tracing out the names of the Dwarves.

We rested for an hour, Wynne looking over our injuries and adjusting my sling, soothing the pain on my ankle a bit with her magic. "Don't wear yourself out, Wynne. I can deal with the pain until you've rested," I argued, but she wouldn't hear of it.

"It's a long way back to Orzammar, and we'll move more quickly without you limping in agony the entire way," she replied, and I relented, telling her not to tire herself out too much.

As we set off, I walked next to Oghren, looking down at the Dwarf with worry; he looked troubled, and I wanted to try to help him. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but he cut me off with a look, and I remained silent. "Don't, Warden. Just… _don't_ ," he said, shaking his head, and I let out a soft sigh.

"…fair enough," I replied, understanding his pain.

oOo

Everyone could tell that Adeline was in foul humor all the way back to Orzammar. When they encountered darkspawn, she moved silently and without hesitation, tearing the creatures apart before anyone had time to react, ignoring her pain despite Wynne's protests. The Elf hardly spoke at all, and when she did, it was a few short words, either to give orders, or to answer a question.

Wynne came up to her when they set up camp for the night, examining her injured arm and other wounds, letting out a quiet breath. _The way she throws herself at the darkspawn, it's a wonder she's healed this much already,_ Wynne thought, silently undoing the sling and applying a bit of healing magic, soothing the girl's pain. _Come to think of it…she has barely any scarring on her at all, from what I have seen. That is…very surprising, considering how she fights. I wonder if she is simply an unusually fast healer?_ Wynne wondered.

 _All Elves carry a bit of magic in their blood, more so than most non-mages, at least, so perhaps fast healing is a side-effect?_ She played with the thought a bit; she had noticed, in all her years mentoring apprentices in the tower, that the Elf students seemed to learn the fastest – she assumed it was a lingering racial ability from ancient times, before the Tevinters had taken Arlathan.

"Thank you, Wynne," Adeline murmured, once Wynne had finished treating her.

"Adeline…you have been very quiet. It is unlike you," Wynne said gently, and Adeline snorted, a sharp, bitter sound.

"And what would _you_ know about me, Wynne?" she asked, and Wynne was quiet. She had become patient and understanding in her long years of taking on apprentices, and she let the girl speak, spilling her heart out. "Sten's right. This task shouldn't be left to me," Adeline muttered, shaking her head. "I'm a horrible leader. I've thrown us into more dangerous situations than I can count, nearly getting us all killed in the process, and I've even started _threatening_ people in our group," Adeline listed, closing her eyes and looking distraught.

"…that may be so, but you are simply trying to do what you think is best; no one can fault you for doing what you think is right," Wynne began carefully, and Adeline looked up at her. "You care for each of us – your distress over a few harsh words reflects as much. You are the youngest ones in our group, I believe, and yet you and Alistair alone must face the daunting task of ending the Blight. After seeing the archdemon firsthand, I know that any lesser person would turn and flee," Wynne continued, and Adeline stared at the old woman in silence. "You are not perfect. No one is. It is natural that you feel stress and strain under such immense pressure – that you have not made such an outburst sooner is what truly surprised me. You have greater resolve than I had first thought," Wynne finished, gently tying off the sling and patting Adeline's uninjured shoulder.

"…thank you, Wynne," Adeline murmured softly, looking down. Wynne smiled slightly, glad that her words had gotten through to her.

Neria sat nearby, listening as she kept watch, glancing up as Zevran walked over to her and sat by her side. "Hello lethallin," the Elf greeted, and Zevran raised an eyebrow at the appellation.

"Lethallin? Is that Elvish?" he asked, and she smiled, nodding.

"It is. It means friend, in the common-tongue," Neria replied.

"Oh? How interesting. I have heard the Dalish roaming through Antiva speaking Elvish, but not completely – they use Elvish words in their speech as one would use spices in cooking," Zevran remarked, and Neria chuckled.

"That is an…interesting metaphor," she said, and Zevran smiled. He loved it when she laughed – her plump lips curled up in the most adorable smile, and he felt his heart tighten with something that he hadn't felt in ages. It was far softer than the sharp spikes of lust that shot through him when he looked over her exquisite figure. But oh, how he would love to offer her a massage, even with the others still in earshot…

"Although it is not entirely untrue," Neria continued, pursing her lips and looking thoughtful as she broke Zevran's chain of thought. "Much of our language and lore is lost, and while we Dalish have gathered as much as we can, it is but a fraction of what once was," she sighed. "What is worse is that our city brethren know even less – they are forbidden to worship our Gods, and so they turn to the very Maker who allowed the humans to enslave our people in the first place," she scoffed, glancing towards Adeline almost pityingly.

"I see that the pride of the Dalish is unchanged, even in Ferelden," Zevran remarked, and Neria glanced back at him for a moment before laughing.

"Oh, I suppose we _are_ a rather arrogant bunch," Neria chuckled, and Zevran was surprised by the easy admission. "It comes with who we are – our creed, if you will – for we are the Elvhenan, keepers of the lost lore, and never again shall we submit," Neria's voice became serious, her tone quiet, and Zevran felt a shudder run down his spine at the power in her words, and the way her eyes seemed to reflect the firelight. By the Maker, the fear that wracked through him only made him want her more – his blood boiled at the thought of making love to such a dangerous woman, feeling her wolf eyes rake over his face as she looked at him.

Zevran watched the young woman as she returned to keeping lookout, glancing about the dark tunnels with those hunter's eyes. Her nose wrinkled a bit, and she rested her cheek on the palm of one hand, propping her elbow up on a knee as she crossed her legs. Neria looked briefly over her shoulder as she heard someone moving around behind her, a small, knowing smile on her lips, and Zevran discreetly followed her gaze, a similar smile painting his face as he noticed what had caught her attention.

"Our little Wardens are growing up," Zevran joked, and Neria chuckled softly, watching as Alistair walked over to Adeline, once Wynne had turned in for the night. The pair of Elves saw him pull something from his back pocket and hand it to Adeline, who stared at it and started giggling, a broad grin across her face.

"Oh…I um…I thought you might like it, but…" Alistair said awkwardly, looking down at the book Adeline held in her lap, "The Legend of King Calenhad."

"Like it? It's wonderful," Adeline replied, and the uncertainty left Alistair's face, replaced by a warm smile as Adeline leaned lightly against him, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Well, back in Redcliffe, when I was telling you about the lake, you said you didn't know many stories. This one's…well, my favorite," Alistair admitted, slightly embarrassed that his favorite story involved one of his ancestors.

"I'll start on it once things have calmed down a bit," Adeline promised, smiling up at Alistair. She closed her eyes as Alistair carefully placed an arm around her, running a hand through her hair and tucking a few strands behind one of her ears.

"Hmm…" Zevran remarked as he watched them, and Neria glanced at him. "I wonder…" he murmured, smiling and letting out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

"What is it?" Neria asked, and Zevran grinned.

"She has not told him about the ears," Zevran replied, and Neria raised an eyebrow. "He would not be touching them like that if he knew," he added, and she glanced back and watched the two before biting back a small smile.

"I wonder how he'd react if she just let out a moan right now?" Neria mused, watching Adeline's eyes close in pleasure as she leaned against Alistair, who was watching the fire and absently running his fingertips over one of her ears.

"He would blush down to his navel, I expect," Zevran replied, and Neria chuckled softly, shaking her head.

"Ignorance is bliss, I suppose," the Elf woman sighed, smiling at the pair of Grey Wardens. She turned her gaze back towards the tunnels, her eyes moving slowly through the darkness as she absently fingered the tip of her bow. She could feel Zevran's gaze on her, and she tried not to smile. She rather liked the man, she had to admit; he was quite charming, and had an air of confidence that Neria found alluring. And he smelled divine – like honey and brandy and musk, and Neria sometimes caught herself fantasizing what his lips would taste like against hers, or how his hands would feel against her skin. "So," she began after a while, trying to settle down her thoughts before she got herself excited; Zevran nodded, indicating that he was listening, "what is your opinion of the Dalish, if I might ask?"

Zevran cocked his head slightly at the questing, giving a small shrug. "I know little enough of the Dalish, other than the fact that my mother was one. Or so I was told," he began, and Neria's eyes shone with curiosity at his words. She could see it, a bit – his features _were_ reminiscent of the Dalish, if one knew what to look for. "She had fallen in love with an Elven woodcutter and accompanied him back to the city, leaving her clan behind for good," Zevran continued, and then scoffed, shaking his head. "And there, of course, the woodcutter died of some filthy disease and my mother was forced into prostitution to pay off his debts. Oldest tale in the book."

His voice was scornful, and Neria looked at him with surprise, and then deep sadness. "Zevran, that's horrible," she murmured, and Zevran scowled into the darkness, a bitter smile on his face as he shook his head.

"Is it? It seemed normal enough a tale growing up – no different than the other Elven boys in the whorehouse," he replied, absently twirling one of his throwing knives around a finger. It was a nervous tick of his, Neria had noticed – when he was unhappy, he tried to keep his hands busy, or they became twitchy and restless as he spoke. "I didn't know my mother, either, of course. She died giving birth to me; my first victim, as it were. The boys were all raised communally by the whores. It was a happy enough existence, ignoring the occasional beating, until eventually I was sold to the Crows – I brought a good price, so I hear," he added with a shrug.

Neria looked at him quietly for a long time, finding it strange how cheerful he sounded, but realized that it was a mask – he had worn this mask of cheerful indifference all his life; he had to, to survive in the world that he had been thrust into. "…and yet you're oddly cheerful about it all," she remarked, and Zevran gave her a sidelong glance, seeing the look of understanding in her eyes. He stopped twirling his knife, setting it down on the stone beside him as he held her gaze.

"It could have been much worse," he murmured. "Shall I tell you about what happened to the _other_ whorehouse boys, who did not fetch a decent price with the Crows? Surely your life has not been so idyllic? People like you and I are not the product of happy lives of contentment, after all," he continued, and she let out a soft sigh, nodding.

"…yes. I suppose that's true," she agreed, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. Zevran watched her in silence, seeing the deep pain in her eyes as an unhappy memory resurfaced – they truly weren't so different, he thought.

"My original point is that my mother's Dalish nature was always a point of fascination for me," he began softly, drawing her out of her memory. Her blue eyes scanned his face, meeting his amber eyes and holding his gaze. "Through all the years of my Crow training, the one thing of my mother's that I possessed was a pair of gloves. They were of Dalish make, I knew that much, and beautiful. I had to keep them hidden, of course, as we were not allowed such things. Eventually they were discovered, and I never saw them again." Zevran looked down at the leather gloves he wore now, trying to recall the feeling of the Dalish craft – they had been too big for him at the time, but he had loved them, all the same.

"I know the sort of gloves you speak of," Neria remarked, remembering her own pair – she had lost them on that horrible day, so long ago.

"I suppose you would. I'd always wanted another," he admitted softly. "In fact, I ran off to join a clan of Dalish once when they drew near Antiva City, thinking that there I would find my true calling," Zevran chuckled slightly, and Neria cocked her head, curious again. "Naturally the reality did not live up at all to the fantasies I had constructed as a boy, staring at those gloves. But such is life," he sighed. He looked out into the darkness of the tunnel, jumping ever so slightly as he felt a gentle hand resting lightly over his. Without looking, Zevran twined his fingers with Neria's, and the pair continued to keep lookout together.

The two sat in companionable silence for a long time, listening to Leliana telling a story to the others about 'Flemeth', the Witch of the Wilds. "Flemeth? Morrigan's mother?" Adeline asked, and Morrigan glanced over, rolling her eyes. Jowan and Wynne jumped with surprise, and Leliana gave the Elf a strange look, cocking her head in confusion.

"Are…are you sure? Was she _the_ Flemeth of legend? Flemeth the Devourer of Men? Flemeth, Mother of Witches? Flemeth Demon-Touched, Who Dwells in the Mists?" Leliana asked, her tone dramatic, and Alistair chuckled.

"She didn't really introduce herself as such," he remarked, and Morrigan scoffed, returning her attention to grinding herbs with her mortar and pestle, muttering 'foolishness' under her breath.

"Fereldan mothers scare their daughters with talk of Flemeth. They say that if you're bad, Flemeth will spirit you away and bind you to her forever," Leliana began, using a spooky tone. "They also say that Flemeth mourns her lost beauty, and will steal yours through your looking-glass, if she catches you."

"Flemeth was once beautiful?" Alistair asked, almost in disbelief, and Adeline grinned.

"Where do you think Morrigan gets her good looks?" she teased, and the man snorted.

"Evil swamp-magic. Or eating Chasind children," he muttered, glancing at Morrigan from the corner of his eye – she chose to ignore him completely.

"Flemeth's beauty was known throughout the land," Leliana continued with her tale, not bothered by the interruptions. "She had hair like unto a moonless night, skin as pale as winter's first snow and eyes as beautiful and perilous as the sea. When she came of age, she came to the attention of the lord of Highever, Conobar, and he took her for his wife. Conobar soon learned that his young bride had the gift of magic. He kept this a secret, for he feared that she would be taken from him. Flemeth stayed with Conobar for some years, and with his blessing, she practiced her art. And then one day a young poet named Osen came to the castle. Flemeth was captivated by Osen's voice, and he by her beauty, and they fell in love."

"Ooh, the plot thickens," Katja grinned as she rested her chin in her hands, eyes shining as she listened to the story.

"Flemeth longed to be with her true love, and she and Osen fled from Conobar's lands, seeking refuge in the Korcari Wilds with the Chasind tribes. They lived there, happily, for many a year, till the day Flemeth received news that Conobar was dying and longed to see her face one last time. Flemeth's heart swelled with pity for the man who once was her husband, and begged Osen to return to Conobar's side with her," Leliana said, and Morrigan made a small sound in her throat, as if trying not to laugh at the story; Leliana ignored her, continuing unperturbed.

"But when Flemeth and Osen entered Highever, they were captured by Conobar's men and Osen was slain in front of Flemeth's eyes. Flemeth was imprisoned in the highest tower of the castle, there to await Conobar's judgment on her," Leliana's tone darkened, and the fire seemed to dim at her words, long shadows crawling towards the group as they sat huddled together in the firelight.

"Distraught at the loss of her love, Flemeth plotted revenge against her husband. She summoned a Fade demon, intending for it to wreak vengeance on Conobar, but her spell went awry… The demon possessed Flemeth, turning her into an abomination. The halls of the castle ran red with blood as Flemeth slaughtered Conobar and all his men. The last of Flemeth's humanity melted away and at dawn, she stole back to the Wilds to plot and scheme for a hundred years. They say she took to her side many Chasind men, and with their help begat her daughter-witches who even now prowl the dark places of the Korcari Wilds…"

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	30. Chapter 30: Farewell, Orzammar

Chapter 30

Farewell, Orzammar

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

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We returned to Orzammar about a week later, ragged and exhausted from our journey in the Deep Roads. "Go rest. I'm going to go crown someone," I muttered tiredly to the group as we plodded up the steps to the Diamond Quarter. They followed me regardless, perhaps not hearing, or perhaps not caring, as I walked slowly to the Assembly, the guards letting us in without question, recognizing me as a Grey Warden.

The Assembly was already in session, and Steward Bandelor was standing on the platform in the center of the room with Bhelen and Harrowmont on either side, trying to keep peace as the place was nearly in uproar. "Lords of the Assembly, I call for order! This argument gets us nowhere!" the steward yelled, fighting to be heard over the angry deshyrs. Bhelen stepped forward, raising his arm, and the deshyrs settled down a bit, wanting to hear what the Prince had to say.

"Then why these delaying tactics? I call for a vote right now. My father has one living child to assume the Aeducan throne. Who would deny him that?" he asked challengingly, and Harrowmont glared at him.

"Your father made me swear on his deathbed you would not succeed him," Harrowmont growled, and Steward Bandelor took a step between the two, wanting to prevent a fight from breaking out. The guard by the door tapped his staff on the floor with a loud clacking sound, drawing everyone's attention.

"I apologize for the interruption, Lord Steward, but the Grey Wardens have returned," he called, and gasps of surprise echoed around the chamber as I limped down the steps to the platform, the rest of our group waiting respectfully at the top of the stairs. I was ragged, with wild hair and bloodstained clothes, but I didn't care; I held my chin up regally despite my exhaustion, holding the crown Caridin had forged in my hand, standing before the assembly as the deshyrs went quiet.

"Well, Warden? What news do you bring?" Bhelen asked, barely containing his smug grin as he looked at the crown in my hand.

"I bear a crown from Paragon Caridin for his chosen king," I replied, my voice echoing through the stone chamber. Oghren walked down the steps, coming to my side and explaining, seeing the skeptical looks on some of the deshyrs' faces.

"Caridin was trapped in the body of a golem. This Warden granted him the mercy he sought, releasing him and destroying the Anvil of the Void," he said, and a murmur of surprise went through the Assembly. "Before he died, Caridin forged a crown for Orzammar's next king, chosen by the ancestors themselves!"

"I would like to believe Oghren's word, but it's well-known the Grey Warden is Bhelen's hireling," Harrowmont argued, glaring at me with barely contained fury. The Assembly erupted in gasps of surprise and outrage, and Steward Bandelor raised his hands.

"Silence!" he bellowed, and the deshyrs settled down. He took the crown as I handed it to him, looking it over carefully. "This crown _is_ of Paragon make, and bears House Ortan's ancient seal. Tell us, Warden; whom did Caridin choose?" the steward asked.

"Caridin chose Bhelen Aeducan," I replied simply. I was exhausted, and was in no mood for flowery words and elaborate ceremonies; I was almost afraid that I would collapse right there in front of the entire Assembly.

"At last. This farce is ended and I can take my rightful place on my father's throne," Bhelen breathed, looking up at me approvingly.

The deshyrs all rose from their seats as Bhelen knelt before Steward Bandelor, banging their maces against the stone floor and making the chamber rumble. The steward spoke a few quiet words to the Prince, placing the crown on his brow. "Let the Memories find you worthy, first amidst the lords of the houses, the king of Orzammar."

Bhelen rose, looking around the assembly as the gathered deshyrs cheered for him, returning to their seats and falling silent as he raised a hand. He looked at Harrowmont smugly, and the man glowered back at him. "Do _you_ acknowledge me as king?" he asked, and Harrowmont gave a small sigh of defeat.

"I…cannot defy a Paragon. The throne is yours…King Bhelen," the man grumbled, and Bhelen nodded.

"Then as my first act as king, I call for this man's execution!" the king yelled, and my eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Guards, seize him!"

"Maker's _breath_ Bhelen! I didn't give you that crown so you could be a tyrant!" I hissed, watching as the guards dragged Harrowmont away.

"You know better than anyone the war facing us, Warden. Orzammar cannot afford to be divided," Bhelen replied, seeing the look of anger on my face. "Anyone undermining my reign is serving only the darkspawn."

"…as you wish," I replied through gritted teeth, glaring at the Dwarf. I watched Bhelen go, muttering 'ungrateful jackass' under my breath. "Let's go," I grumbled to Oghren, walking back towards the others, running a hand over my forehead.

I stopped by the Shaperate while we were nearby, dropping off the various documents we had collected from the Deep Roads. The Lord Shaper, Czibor, paid handsomely for the items, as Oghren had said he would. A young Dwarf woman overheard our conversation, asking about any documents pertaining to the Ortan house. The Lord Shaper let her look over the documents, and the girl suddenly squealed with joy; apparently, by finding her ancestor's names in the records, she could prove that she was part of House Ortan. She thanked us, running off to the assembly to inform the steward.

"Hmm… Well, that was convenient," I murmured, walking outside and meeting up with the others, who had waited for me by the doors.

"So some Dwarf girl just ran out of there screaming. What happened?" Alistair asked, and I shrugged.

"Apparently we found some documents in Ortan thaig that prove her family's connection to the Ortan house. She's a noble now, I guess," I shrugged, motioning for everyone to follow as I headed to the Royal Palace. We entered the building, walking down the halls and meeting Bhelen in his study.

"You have proven yourself and more, Warden," Bhelen said, watching as I approached him, seeing that I was still frustrated by his order to execute Harrowmont. "Without your aid, I would not have taken this throne so smoothly or so soon."

"The throne belongs with House Aeducan. Huzzah," I replied unenthusiastically, and Bhelen gave a small snort at my bitterness.

"As all in Orzammar now see. My generals are already preparing for a mission to the surface; when you have need of us, you shall have every able-bodied dwarf in Orzammar," he promised, and I nodded. "Now, I have much to do. If there is nothing else…"

"I will return to the surface soon. Thank you for your aid, King Bhelen," I said, giving him a short, respectful bow.

"Good luck, Warden. May we both crush our enemies," the king said, bidding us farewell.

We walked out of the Diamond Quarter, listening to the news as word of Orzammar's new king spread like wildfire throughout the city. "What's wrong?" Alistair asked me, watching as I put a hand on my forehead, looking troubled.

"I'd forgotten how much I _hate_ the nobility. No matter where you go, they all act like petulant children fighting over something shiny," I groaned, running a hand through my hair, combing out bits of dried blood.

We were quiet for a while, and I glanced back at Oghren as he walked with us. "Mmm…right. Oghren. Thank you for all the help. I only wish things could have ended better," I sighed, patting the Dwarf's shoulder gratefully, giving him half of what the Lord Shaper had given me for the golem registry. He was looking at me oddly, and I smiled. "I'll see you around Orzammar, then," I added, and he nodded.

"Right…" he replied, watching as we left, returning to Tapsters for the night.

Before we reached the tavern, however, I paused, finding Filda praying in front of the shrine once more, near the smith's shop. "You've returned!" Filda gasped, looking at me eagerly, hoping for any news of Ruck. "With all the excitement over the new king, I never expected you to remember my poor son. Did you learn anything about my Ruck?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

"I…found his remains, and his blade. He died heroically, long ago," I said sadly, untying the blade Ruck had given me from my pack, handing it to his mother.

"Oh, my poor boy. I-I guess I knew, but…I just wish I could have seen him one last time," Filda sighed, sniffing a bit as tears rolled down her cheeks. "Thank you, stranger, for bringing me news. Now I know that Ruck rests with the ancestors," she added, giving me a weak smile.

We left the woman, returning to the tavern for the evening. I collapsed on the stone bed after my bath, exhausted, ignoring the uncomfortable stone pressing against my back as I shut my eyes. _I wonder if I did the right thing…_ I thought as I drifted off.

oooo

The next morning, I headed out early, waking up before the others. I had heard that someone in Dust Town caught and sold nugs – I remembered what Leliana had said when we came to Orzammar, and I decided I would see about getting her one. Katja was up and about as well, and decided to tag along in case anyone in Dust Town tried to give me trouble, what with my broken arm and all.

Katja knew someone who caught nugs, and she led me through Dust Town to a young Dwarf; he was leaning idly against a wall, cleaning his nails with a pocket-knife, glancing up at our approach. "Yes? Why's someone like you hanging about Dust Town so much?" he asked, probably recognizing me from a few days ago.

"Do you know anything about Nugs?" I asked, and he raised an eyebrow at my question.

"Nugs? Yes. They don't got much meat on them, but down here, you can't be picky. Better than nothing," he shrugged.

"How would I get one of those?" I prodded.

"Nuggets? Lots of people sell them, here in Dust Town," the Dwarf replied.

"No, I want a _live_ nug," I clarified. Katja raised an eyebrow questioningly at my response; evidently, she thought I wanted to try these 'nuggets' as well.

"What for? You going to cook him up yourself?" he asked.

"My friend wants one as a pet," I explained. The two Dwarves seemed puzzled by this, but the nug-catcher simply shrugged, putting away his pocket knife and walking over.

"Yeah, I can find a nug for you; could even get one from outside the city – those ones in the deeps don't eat as much garbage," he said. "Don't know what they eat but they always seem healthier, you know? Shiny coats, bright eyes. How much you giving me?" he added.

"I'll decide when you bring it," I replied, and he nodded.

"Fair enough. Give me some time and I'll hunt him down for you," the young Dwarf said, heading off. I leaned against the building, absently looking at my nails and waiting for his return. The Dwarves around Dust Town gave me a wide berth – they knew what I had done to the carta, and gave me wary looks, keeping as far away from me as possible.

"Who wants a pet nug?" Katja asked curiously, pursing her lips. "Wait…is it Leliana?" she guessed and I nodded, smiling slightly. "I thought so. She's the type that loves cute, frilly things," Katja remarked, thought not unkindly; in fact, she seemed almost amused by the idea.

"So Katja, you grew up here in Dust Town?" I asked, and she nodded, knitting her fingers together and resting them lightly against the back of her neck, looking completely relaxed. I could tell, though, that at the first sign of danger, she would have her blade in her hand – I had been much the same way back home. Perhaps we weren't quite so different.

"Right in that little ruin of a house where you rescued me. Mam's a rabid genlock on her best day – and that's being _generous_ – and my big sis is…well, _was_ a noble-hunter. I guess now she's Bhelen's favorite concubine," Katja said with a small sigh, watching me with those intense green eyes.

"Noble-hunter?" I echoed. I had had heard the term before, but I still wasn't sure what it really meant. From what I had gathered, casteless girls would become a nobleman's concubines and bear his children.

"Casteless girls – well, _mostly_ casteless girls, at any rate – that are pretty enough to get the attention of a noble. Usually, they're backed by a patron, and are taught to read and dance and sing and all that other nug-spew the nobles like. A pretty, witty bauble to warm their bed, and maybe produce an heir or two," Katja explained, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Huh. And the children out of wedlock aren't considered bastards?" I asked curiously, and Katja shrugged.

"Doesn't matter to the nobles," Katja replied. "We Dwarves have…rather low fertility rates. Not sure why, but nobles allow pretty much anything to produce a living, healthy heir to carry on their family name. If the noble hunters produce an heir, they and their immediate family get to move in with the family of higher caste. Then the patron can claim to be a relative and move in as well. Our family records aren't preserved, so there's no way to prove that they're _not_ family."

"But…um…why aren't _you_ a noble-hunter?" I asked. "I mean, you're well spoken and very pretty," I added, and her eyes widened. _Oh shit, I just asked her why she isn't being a whore…_ "Uh, not that I'm…um… Sod, I'm sorry…" I trailed off awkwardly as she saw the look on my face, and she burst out laughing.

"Aw, you're such a sweetheart Warden, showering me with compliments," Katja chuckled, waving her hand and pretending to be bashful. "Usually a patron can only afford to support one noble-hunter at a time; their education is fairly expensive, after all," Katja explained. "And my personality is a bit…let's say _rough_. Besides, my talents were put to better use cracking skulls with the carta than tumbling with some nobleman and hoping to get knocked up with his kid."

"Well, I'm glad you've decided to come with us," I replied, and she grinned.

"Better than ending up like poor ol' Nadezda," Katja said, glancing back towards the open area near her house, where Nadezda was leaning against the rubble. The Dwarf woman crossed her arms and watched me for a few moments, nodding towards me. "You got a similar tale, salroka?" She asked, and I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, don't give me that. You've got the look of someone who's killed before, and killed a _lot_. You even enjoyed it, I'll bet," Katja replied, and I opened my mouth to say that it wasn't true. "And don't say it's only darkspawn you've killed – takes a killer to know one," Katja added with a wink.

I let out a sigh, nodding. "You have me there," I said, looking up towards the ceiling of the tunnel. "I guess the smell of blood never goes away. You're right; I _have_ killed…and I _did_ enjoy it. It's…a bit scary, actually, how much I did," I admitted, and Katja smiled gently at me.

"But they deserved it, no doubt. Indiscriminate murder isn't quite your style, Warden," Katja remarked. "Ah, but you can just leave it at that – I don't want to wear out my welcome by prying into an unpleasant memory," the woman added, and I smiled slightly.

"Thank you, Katja. Maybe one of these days I'll tell you about it," I replied, and she grinned.

"Then I'll have to tell you about the whole Proving debacle that got me into this mess to begin with," the Dwarf chuckled. "Did I mention that I took out three of the best warriors in Orzammar? And Leske mixed up our drinks before the first round, so I was _hallucinating_ on top of everything else – I thought there were giant purple nugs eating people in the stands!" she laughed, and I grinned at her – she really was a diamond in the rough.

The nug-catcher returned a few minutes later, carrying a nug in his arms. The creature was making small grunting snorts, looking up at me with big, bright eyes. "I got him. He's all squirmy, but he's a big fellow," the young Dwarf said, and the nug snuffled my hand as I held it out, nipping me.

"Ouch," I murmured, more from surprise than pain. "Good work. I'd say he's worth…forty silvers," I said generously, counting out the coins. _Maker knows these poor souls could use it after what I've done to them,_ I thought, handing over the money. Katja raised an eyebrow at my generosity, smiling slightly and giving me a knowing look.

"Forty silvers? Real silver? I…I could buy something proper with that. A good meal…maybe a real blanket!" the young man grinned, looking at me appreciatively. "I knew you'd be good on your word. Nice doing business," he added, handing Katja the nug as she offered to carry it. I nodded to the man, and Katja and I headed out of Dust Town.

The others were up and about by the time we returned, getting ready to leave Orzammar. They gave us odd looks as we came back to the tavern with the nug, and Leliana stared at it with wide eyes, a big grin on her face as Katja put the nug on the ground and nudged it towards her, the little animal trotting over to her as she knelt.

"Oh! It's one of those subterranean bunny-pigs! Ohhh, look at him! Come here, you…" Leliana grinned, stroking the nug's head as it sniffed at her.

"We got him for you. Careful, he nips," I warned, smiling faintly as Leliana scratched the nug's ears, the animal snuffling her arm.

"He's probably just hungry. Oooh, he's snuffling me! Snuffle, snuffle!" Leliana giggled with delight, smiling up at Katja and me. "Thank you so much. You've made my day," she added, and I smiled back, glad that she was happy.

oooo

After resupplying at some stalls in the commons, we headed back to the gates in the Hall of Heroes. As the gates opened up before us and the others went on ahead, I glanced back, hearing the clanking of heavy armor.

"Warden!" Oghren called, trotting through the hall, and I waited for him to join me.

"Oghren? Did you come to see me off?" I asked, my eyes wide. "After what happened I thought you'd never want to see my face again," I added under my breath, still feeling guilty about my hand in Branka's death.

"I'm coming with you," Oghren replied, and it took me a moment to realize what he had said.

"But…why?" I asked in surprise, and he shrugged.

"I was thinking; we've come to know each other fairly well during our time in the Deep Roads. You're bloody fearsome, for an Elf, and I'm a warrior without a house to defend. Wandering about killing darkspawn with a sodding Grey Warden sounds like just the thing to keep me occupied. So what do you say?" he asked.

"Don't Dwarves lose their caste when they go to the surface?" I recalled, and he nodded. I had asked Katja about this as well, but her response had been 'Who gives a sod? I'm already casteless to begin with!'

"Aye, they do," Oghren confirmed, "but who sodding cares? Branka ran off with my house, and I can't carry weapons down here, anyway. Better off up there with you than down here where the sodding _children_ laugh at me," the Dwarf said.

"But…I killed your wife," I murmured, and he snorted.

"Branka killed herself. You did what you had to – isn't that the Grey Wardens' thing?" he asked, and I bit my lip.

"…alright. As long as you're okay with this," I replied softly, and the Dwarf grinned, shaking his head at my nervous tone.

"You're a strange one, Warden. One day you're tearing the heads off darkspawn like one of the Legion, and the next you're acting like a frightened Elf lass," he snorted, chuckling at his own words, and I gave him a small smile.

"People have many faces, Oghren," I replied.

We walked out of the gates, and Oghren covered his eyes, blinking in the bright sunlight. He let out a long breath, staring up at the sky and looking ill. "Give me a moment," he breathed, his eyes wide as they adjusted to the sunlight.

The others were a little ways off, glancing back with surprise as they saw Oghren at my side. Katja looked similarly ill, but was recovering quickly as she stared at the bright surface world in wonder, and she immediately began pointing things out, tugging Leliana and Alistair's arms and asking about the different objects nearby. Zevran was laughing at Neria, who was clinging to the nearest pine tree and kissing the trunk as she thanked every god that she knew that she had returned to the open air. Sten was standing nearby watching the strange group with a look on his face that said 'why am I following these people again?'

"Everything alright?" I asked the Dwarf, blinking quickly and shading my own eyes as they re-adjusted to the brightness of the surface.

"Of _course_ everything's all right! Psht!" Oghren grumbled. "Just give me one sodding moment," he added, and I nodded, letting him take his time to adjust. "By the Stone, I feel like I'm about to fall off the world with all that sky up there," he said, staring up at the blue expanse.

 _Oh, sky, how I've missed you_ , I thought happily, closing my eyes and feeling the sun's warmth on my skin. "Mmm…I've missed the sunlight more than I realized…" I sighed, taking a few moments to adjust myself. The cold of the mountains hit me a few seconds later as the gates closed behind us, and I shivered slightly. "Is this very strange to you?" I asked, opening an eye and watching Oghren as he stared up at the clouds, the wind blowing through his hair and picking up long strands of his tangled beard.

"Strange? _Ha_. Strange is your wife turning out to prefer the ladies. Not living in a world without a bleeding ceiling," he replied.

"Well, take your time. I need you ready to fight," I added with a smile, and Oghren snorted.

"If I could fight Randar Vollney's second after downing fifteen lichen-ales in half an hour, I'm not going to be put off by a high sodding ceiling," he retorted, taking a few cautious steps forward, as if he were afraid he would fall into the sky. "Well, let's get moving. We're losing…whatchacallit? Daylight," he prompted, and I smiled.

"Oghren's coming too?" Alistair asked as we joined them, and I nodded. "Well _you_ look happy at least – Morrigan is _furious_ ," Alistair added.

"When's she _not?_ " I joked, although I was a little worried that I had made her mad again.

"Good point. But I'd stay away from her until she calms down," Alistair warned, and I nodded – the woman was nowhere to be seen; she must have stormed off. "So is he okay with this?" Alistair asked indicating Oghren, and I nodded.

"I didn't _conscript_ him or anything – Oghren approached _me_ ," I explained. "He said he's got nowhere else to go; he'd rather travel with us than sit around Orzammar and do nothing. And I…feel a little bad for him. What he's going through right now – it hurts," I murmured in a low voice, not wanting the Dwarf to hear me. "And it's going to hurt for a long time. I know what it feels like to lose family…but he's strong. He'll recover," I whispered, and Alistair nodded.

I shivered slightly as the wind picked up again, setting my pack down and going through it as I searched for my cloak. I heard Alistair shifting behind me, and I glanced up as I felt something warm wrap around my neck and shoulders. I looked at the red and green plaid scarf that he had given me, and I stood, staring up at him. "Can't have you catching your death of cold, my dear," he teased, leaning over and tugging the scarf up over my mouth and nose, his lips lightly brushing over my forehead.

"I…I don't know what to say…" I murmured, feeling heat rising in my cheeks at the gift. It was just like the one my mother had given me, so long ago – it even reached all the way down to my knees. I grinned up at him, wishing that my arm wasn't broken – I would have thrown my arms around him in my excitement. "Thank you," I smiled, standing on my toes and pulling the scarf down, kissing him. Alistair smiled, seeing the brightness in my eyes, and he chuckled slightly, gently running his hand through my hair as he helped adjust the scarf for me.

"What, no scarves for the rest of us?" Zevran asked, looking a bit chilly himself. I grinned and threw my cloak at him, and he wrapped it hurriedly around his shoulders – I suddenly didn't feel cold at all.

"Oh, Zev's going to carrying our stuff now?" Neria observed, taking off her own cloak and tossing it over mine.

"Only for my lovely ladies," Zevran replied, and Leliana and Katja grinned, throwing their own cloaks on top as well.

"It'll keep him warm at least," Leliana remarked. "And quiet," she added in an undertone to Katja, who laughed at Zevran's glare – all we could see were his eyes, just visible from between the folds of the cloaks.

oooo

Once Morrigan had returned, we set off, heading through the mountains towards Lake Calenhad, traveling back towards the Circle tower. Dancia walked carefully along the dirt trails that wound their way through the thick pine trees, and I glanced back as I heard someone stumble. "Watch where you're going, ya sodding great horse of a dog!" Oghren grumbled as Olan brushed by him, bumping him with his shoulder and nearly bowling the Dwarf over.

"Hop on and ride him, Oghren. He's about the right size," Zevran teased, and the Dwarf glowered at him before returning his attention to the dog.

"One day, someone's going to kick you, beast. Not saying _who_ , but someone," Oghren threatened, and Olan barked, not threatened in the least as his stubby tail wagged.

"Olan, don't be rude," I chided, but the mabari ignored me, grinning at the Dwarf. I glanced back at my companions as they walked, making a small motion for Zevran to join me, and the Elf came over, hopping into the seat next to me. "Zevran, I feel the need to apologize," I began, and I heard him let out a quiet breath. "What happened, back with the Anvil–"

"There is no need, Adeline. I understand how strongly you feel about such things," he replied simply, and I glanced up at him with a guilty smile.

"That's still not an excuse for threatening you and Morrigan. I'm sorry," I said, giving him a small, apologetic nod.

"Then you are forgiven. We do not want you sulking around camp feeling guilty about this, yes?" Zevran teased, and I laughed.

"I do _not_ sulk!" I denied, and the Elf gave me a pointed look, smirking.

"Of course you don't, my dear," he replied sarcastically. We were quiet for a bit, and I glanced back at the others as Olan started barking, running around with Oghren's hip-flask in his teeth, the Dwarf chasing after him, swearing furiously.

"Ugh, Maker's breath… _Olan! Put that down!_ " I yelled, and the mabari yipped, his tail wagging. "I swear, he's more mischievous child than wardog sometimes," I sighed, shaking my head as he returned the flask. Oghren was giving him the evil eye, so Olan decided not to push his luck…and went to bother Morrigan instead. I glanced up at Zevran, noticing his eyes on me, and I smiled slightly. "Yes?"

"I've a question, if I may," the Elf said, and I nodded.

"Go ahead," I replied, and Zevran crossed his arms, leaning back in the seat.

"Well here is the thing; I swore an oath to serve you, yes? And I understand the quest you're on and this is all very fine and well. My question pertains to what you intend to do with me once this business is over with. As a point of curiosity," he asked, and I shrugged.

"You could go, if you wanted to – I'm not keeping you _prisoner_ or anything," I said, and Zevran raised an eyebrow, looking at me curiously.

"Could I? And what if I didn't wish to leave?" the assassin asked, and I glanced back at him.

"Why wouldn't you go, if you had the chance?" I wondered, puzzled by his words.

"How should I know? I cannot see the future. What if I liked it here? What if we became fond of each other, hmm? Stranger things have happened," Zevran teased, and I rolled my eyes at the incorrigible man.

"I could use a friend, perhaps," I replied, and Zevran smiled.

"See? I have a tendency to grow on others; you'll see," he winked. "It is good to know what my options might be…but that is for another time. For now, we have much to do, yes?" he said, patting my shoulder gently and sliding off the seat, taking rear-guard with Sten as the others changed their positions around the cart.

Leliana was playing her lute quietly behind me, and I glanced back, seeing her nug snuffling through our luggage curiously. "So did you name him yet?" I asked Leliana, and she grinned, patting the nug as he trundled over, lying down and putting his head on her lap.

"Schmooples," she replied.

"Uh…bless you?" I said, confused.

"No, that's his _name_ , silly." Leliana giggled at the strange look I was giving her.

"Um, okay then. Schmooples…" I echoed, shrugging. _Whatever. He's_ _ **her**_ _pet._

oooo

That evening, once we had set up camp, I found Morrigan by her fire, approaching her cautiously. "Yes, Adeline?" she asked, hearing my light footsteps. I sat down nearby, looking at her guiltily, and she sighed, knowing what was coming.

"Morrigan, I need to apologize for everything I've done and said in the last few days. There is no excuse – I have been a complete bitch to you, no matter my reasons. I hope you can forgive me," I apologized, and Morrigan's eyes widened slightly at my earnest words, her expression softening a bit as she looked at my distraught face.

"I can easily put such matters behind me. Consider it done," she replied, and I let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Morrigan. I…I have something for you. Also as an apology," I said, handing her a gold-rimmed mirror I had bought in Orzammar, the metal carved beautifully, decorated with images of animals. I had gone back and bought it before we left Orzammar, glad that it had still been on sale when we came back from the Deep Roads. Her eyes widened in surprise as she held the intricate gold mirror, at a loss for words. "I thought…since I've been giving you such a hard time, I should try to do something nice for you. I know how you like gold and jewelry, and I remembered that you said you had a mirror like this once…" I murmured, glancing down as she looked back at me.

"It is…just the same as the mirror which Flemeth smashed on the ground, so long ago," she sighed, closing her eyes for a moment at the memory. "It is incredible that you found one so like it. I am uncertain what to say; you must wish something in return, certainly," she said as she looked back at me, and I shook my head.

"Of course not, Morrigan. It's a gift," I replied, and she smiled slightly.

"You say that as if I should be accustomed to such a thing. I have…never received a gift, not one which did not come at a price," she sighed, fingers running lightly over the carvings. "I suppose I should say thank you. For the gift. 'Tis…most thoughtful, truly," she thanked, and I smiled.

We sat in silence by her fire, and I knit my fingers together, watching as Morrigan leaned over, rummaging through her pack for something. She set a kettle over the fire, asking me if I would stay for tea, and I replied that I would be glad to keep her company. "I have been studying Mother's grimoire. Do you wish to hear what I have found?" Morrigan asked quietly as we waited for the water to boil, and I nodded.

"What did you find?" I replied, curious. I had expected excitement from her, but…her eyes were strangely downcast as she looked at the tome on her lap.

"'Tis…not what I expected. I had hoped for a collection of her spells, a map of the power that she commands. But this is not it," she said, her fingers running over the leafless tree embossed on the black leather cover of the grimoire.

"Yet you look…disturbed," I remarked, and she glanced up at me, her eyes reflecting the light of the fire like a cat.

"Disturbed? Yes, perhaps that is the right word. One thing in particular within her writings disturbs me," Morrigan said, opening the book. She flipped through the pages and pointed out a section written in red ink, the long, spindly script in a language I had never seen before. "Here, in great detail, Flemeth explains the means by which she has survived for centuries," Morrigan tapped at the thin writing with a finger, and I glanced up at her.

"A spell of immortality?" I guessed, and her eyes were dark as she looked down at the page, shaking her head sadly.

"If only 'twere so," she sighed, biting her lip. "Flemeth has raised many daughters over her long lifetime. There are stories of these many Witches of the Wilds throughout Chasind legend, yet I have never seen a one and always wondered why not," Morrigan continued. "And now I know; they are all Flemeth. When her body becomes old and wizened, she raises a daughter, and when the time is right, she takes her daughter's body for her own," Morrigan explained.

I felt a chill go through me at her words, and I looked down at the grimoire for a few moments in silence. "I'm…not sure I understand what you mean," I murmured, wanting to make sure I had heard her correctly.

"Once, Flemeth was a mage. This was before the time of the Circle of Magi, but she wielded magical power of the same sort that all the ancient shamans did – 'twas no different," Morrigan elaborated. "She summoned a demon and made it part of her, and became an abomination – one that has thrived. Whether Flemeth has always been the demon, or mastered it, or they are one…I truly do not know," she added with a small shrug. "No matter what she is, her body still ages, and will not sustain her forever. So she must find new bodies. I…am to be the next new body, in a very long line," Morrigan finished, her tone deadly quiet.

"And are you certain about this?" I asked, and she nodded.

"Indeed; that is primarily what this tome details. The various daughters that Flemeth has…acquired; their preparation and training – I recognize all of it. I…am to be her next host; this is my purpose," Morrigan replied.

"So why would she risk sending you with me?" I wondered; accompanying me wasn't exactly the safest – despite my attempts to protect everyone, we were still in a lot of danger as we traveled.

"I do not know. Perhaps 'tis as she said – the darkspawn threaten her as much as they threaten anyone else. Or perhaps she believes that this journey will make me more powerful. According to the tome, if the…host…is already powerful and trained in magic, it takes far less time for Flemeth to…settle in," Morrigan suggested, unsure of Flemeth's intentions.

"So what do you intend to do about it?" I asked; surely Morrigan wasn't one to let something like this just happen to her.

"There is only one possible response to this; Flemeth needs to die. I will not sit about like an empty sack waiting to be filled. Flemeth must be slain and I need your help to do it," Morrigan replied, and I felt my eyes widen a bit.

"Kill Flemeth? Isn't that a little…extreme?" I remarked, and Morrigan fingered the pages of the tome, shaking her head.

"It may seem so, if you think of Flemeth as a mother. Think of her, instead, as an ancient abomination that intends to use her own flesh and blood to extend her life beyond all natural limits," Morrigan suggested, and I nodded slightly.

"Right. That's messed up," I replied quietly.

"She did not wish anyone to get a hold of this information, least of all me. Now I have. If I do not act on what I know, then more the fool am I," Morrigan said firmly, a grim set to her jaw as she stared at the flames, her eyes cold with controlled anger.

"Very well. I'll help you, if I can," I said, and she glanced back at me.

"Then what needs to be done is for you to go back to Flemeth's hut in the Korcari Wilds…without me," Morrigan began, looking at me with a hint of guilt in her eyes. "If I am present when she is slain, I cannot be certain that she will not be able to possess my body right then, so I must remain at the camp. Confront her and slay her quickly. I doubt she will truly be dead even then, but it will take her years to find a new host and recover her power…if that is even possible. The thing I must have is her true grimoire; with it I can defend against her power in the future. Everything else in her hut is yours," Morrigan explained, and I nodded.

"I'll see what I can do," I promised.

"I am grateful. The sooner this can be done, the sooner it will set my mind at ease," Morrigan replied, her eyes uncharacteristically warm as she looked at me.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	31. Chapter 31: Take it Easy

Chapter 31

Take it Easy

Author's note:

Thank you Judy and name for the reviews! ~Oh, and I'm such a ditz, I forgot to thank all the favorites and follows~ Thank you all, again, and I hope you enjoy the story.

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Adeline returned to her tent after sharing tea with Morrigan, but once she got inside and tried to undress, she made a face. She had been sleeping in her clothes in the Deep Roads, and when she had bathed back in Orzammar, Wynne had been there to help her undress and treat her arm. The girl stared at the bedroll before her with frustration, letting out a sigh. She poked her head out of the tent, looking for the nearest female member of their party, and spotted Leliana sitting by the fire. "Uh…Leliana…" she called quietly, trying not to sound too embarrassed.

"Hmm?" Leliana asked, glancing back.

"I…need some help," Adeline mumbled, and Leliana walked over, raising an eyebrow.

"Help with…? Oh. Alright," Leliana said, realizing what Adeline was talking about. She entered the Elf's tent, kneeling down next to her and smiling slightly at Adeline's embarrassed face. Leliana made sure the tent flap was secure before helping Adeline take off her shirt, raising an eyebrow at the girl's undergarment. "You wear a corset?" Leliana asked, mildly surprised, and Adeline snorted.

"It's _armor,_ " Adeline insisted. Leliana noticed that indeed it _was_ armor – the corset was a bit frillier than what she would expect Adeline to wear, but she could tell that it had been modified, padded with thick layers of leather. "I don't wear much armor _over_ my clothes, but it's better to be safe than sorry, right?" the Elf argued, and Leliana nodded, amused by Adeline's insistence, as if she thought Leliana would think any less of her for wearing a corset instead of a breast-band.

"Here, let me help with that," Leliana murmured, turning Adeline about so that she could unlace the garment.

"It laces up the sides," Adeline explained as Leliana raised an eyebrow, not finding laces on the back. Leliana noticed how nervous she was, and wondered why.

"Adeline, I'm not going to judge what you _look_ like," Leliana giggled, assuming that was the reason Adeline was fidgeting.

"Uh, no that's not…" Adeline muttered, looking down. "Sorry. We're both women. I shouldn't be like this," she apologized. She hadn't been like this with Wynne, but she had told herself that the old woman was a healer, and her grandmotherlyness had put the girl at ease. Adeline let Leliana slip the corset off, and immediately went cherry red. _Oh sod, I forgot about –_

"Oh. Those markings…" Leliana remarked, looking at Adeline's bare skin. Along the Elf's back was a long, intricate tattoo; black, ribbed crescents and spirals ran along her shoulder-blades and down over the small of her back, emphasizing the curves of her body. Leliana realized that they vaguely formed the shape of a dragon.

"You…can laugh. It's ironic, I know," Adeline muttered with embarrassment, covering her face with a hand.

"Um…I'm wondering more about where you _got_ this," Leliana admitted, and Adeline glanced back at her.

"Funny story, that," Adeline began, fingering the edge of her nightgown as she held the garment in her lap. "A couple of years ago, on Summerday, I got drunk. _Really_ drunk. Now that I think about it, someone – I'm not going to say _who…_ but she's a Dalish Elf – may have given me some Dwarven ale…" Adeline murmured, shaking her head. "Anyway, I woke up in a shack down by the docks with a Rivaini sailor just finishing the tattoo. He told me that Neria and another friend of mine, Daveth, had convinced me to get it," Adeline recalled, snorting softly.

"Dwarven ale _is_ quite strong. I remember drinking a thimble of it back in Orlais, and then waking up a week later in Jadar with nothing but my shoes and a towel," Leliana giggled, getting a smile out of the Elf.

"I guess the point is that after I got the tattoo, I fell into a habit of not undressing in front of anyone. Not that I would _normally_ do that, but I mean people like my family – my cousin Shianni would laugh her arse off about it, and my Dad would _kill_ me," Adeline explained. Leliana nodded, understanding, and she smiled slightly as she slipped Adeline's nightgown over her head before helping her take off her leggings.

"It's very lovely. I understand what Zevran meant now about tattoos emphasizing the body's shapes…" Leliana murmured, grinning at Adeline. "And it _is_ quite funny that you would pick a _dragon_ of all things. Almost fitting," Leliana giggled, and Adeline rolled her eyes.

"Keep in mind that I was _very_ drunk," the girl muttered, feigning annoyance. Leliana smiled, bidding her good night as she left the Elf's tent. As the bard sat down by the fire, strumming her lute, she tried not to smile too much at herself, hoping the others didn't notice. _It truly must be fate,_ Leliana thought with amusement, plucking a few notes on her lute and scribbling down some lyrics for a ballad she was composing.

Zevran sat on the opposite side of the fire, watching Neria and Katja lying in the grass a little ways off, using Olan's back for a pillow as the mabari curled up around the two. The unusual pair had become fast friends in the short time they had known each other, and Zevran covered his mouth with his hand as he sat, trying not to chuckle at them. Katja had an insatiable curiosity about the surface, but her greatest interest lay in the sky; especially the night sky. She would point out different constellations, and Neria would tell her about them, and about the stories that her people had about the 'sky shapes', as Katja liked to call them.

"It's like someone threw a hundred million diamonds up there," the Dwarf woman sighed, her green eyes sparkling with interest. She sat up suddenly and let out a squeal of delight, pointing up at the sky and startling Olan. "Did you see that? One of them fell!" she gasped and Neria smiled at her excitable companion. The mabari grumbled a bit before laying his head back down in his paws, his tail wagging a bit at Katja's eagerness.

"A shooting star. I hear that the shemlen like to make wishes when they fall," Neria remarked, and Katja raised an eyebrow.

"What good does that do?" the Dwarf asked curiously, and Neria shrugged.

"No clue," the Elf replied, and the Dwarf fell back in the grass with a chuckle, pointing out another constellation and asking about it.

"Oh, that's Alindra," Leliana remarked, strolling over and joining the two when Neria said she didn't know the constellation. "There's an old tale about it, and about that constellation over there, the soldier," she added, sitting down in the grass. "Would you like to hear it?" the bard asked, and the two nodded, listening intently as Leliana cleared her throat and began. "A long time ago, there lived a fair maiden called Alindra. She had many suitors, but spurned them all, for she did not love them…"

Zevran glanced over as Jowan joined him by the fire, warming his hands in the chilly night air. "Kinloch Hold's temperature was regulated by magic," the mage remarked, when Zevran had asked. "It never got very cold, so I'm not used to it like Morrigan, or Leliana or Alistair. I suppose Adeline's cold because she's from Denerim – I hear the temperature's a bit milder by the sea, even in winter," he added, looking towards Adeline's tent.

"So, my mage friend, I have noticed you watching our Wardens with interest," Zevran said in a low voice, and Jowan jumped, glancing over at the Elf.

"If it's about Adeline, it's just a crush. I'll get over it," he replied quickly, and Zevran seemed surprised – he hadn't even noticed Jowan's affections towards their leader.

"Oh? Interesting. Are you put out by the competition?" Zevran teased, and Jowan snorted.

"Well…maybe. But he makes her happy. And anyway, I'm still not over…" he trailed off, a sad look in his eyes. Zevran was quiet, not pressing him for an answer – he could sense the sadness and regret around the young man, and see the longing in his grey eyes. "But anyhow, I'm watching them because I want to ask them for blood samples," he continued, and Zevran cocked his head.

"For your magic?" the Elf asked, and Jowan nodded.

"I'm…trying to find a cure for the taint. They Grey Wardens are immune to it, so I was thinking that maybe their blood holds the key," Jowan explained, and Zevran pursed his lips.

"Hmm…a worthy goal, my friend. But perhaps you are wary of using your magic around Alistair?" he guessed, and Jowan nodded again.

"I know he's trying to be understanding, but I also know that traveling with a blood mage goes against all of his Templar training. Even if it's for something like this, I feel…awkward, asking," Jowan admitted.

"Perhaps I can help you with that, then," Zevran offered, and Jowan looked at him with surprise.

"I…what would you like in return?" Jowan asked, and Zevran thought for a moment.

"Hmm…blood mages can control others' dreams, can they not?" Zevran remarked, and Jowan nodded slowly, not entirely sure where this was going. "Then maybe you could give some of our companions…interesting dreams," he elaborated, and Jowan scoffed.

"So you want to use blood magic for _pranks?_ " he asked incredulously. "…what sorts of dreams?" he added in a lower voice, and Zevran smirked at his curiosity.

"I find our Wardens' reactions to one another rather interesting – their flirtations are so awkward that it's actually quite entertaining. And I believe they need a pleasant diversion after the Deep Roads, but both seem too nervous to carry their relationship further at the moment," Zevran chuckled, and Jowan cocked his head.

"So you want me to make them dream…about each other or something?" the mage asked, and Zevran rested his chin on his hand as he propped his elbow up on his knee.

"Well…it also needs to be distracting enough for me to collect blood without them waking. How much do you need, exactly?" Zevran countered, and Jowan held two small vials.

"Only a thimbleful from each, really," he replied. Zevran tucked the two vials into his shirt pocket, standing and knitting his fingers together behind his head.

"I suggest you begin with Adeline – she has probably been asleep longer," the Elf said, disappearing into the fringes of shadow around the campfire. Jowan blinked a few times, looking around as the assassin vanished, and then letting out a low sigh.

"Maker's breath…what have I done?" he groaned, closing his eyes and concentrating on finding Adeline's dream. Despite what Zevran had suggested, Jowan decided that he would keep it tasteful – give the two something they both wanted; maybe a nice house in Redcliffe or something, have the Blight a distant memory…and have them both cured of their taint, maybe. Whatever they did after _that_ , however, would be of their own design.

oooo

Alistair found himself in a familiar cottage, sitting by the fire and looking up at the portrait of him, Adeline and their son, Duncan. He had been reading, the worn, leather-bound tome resting lightly across his knees. He smiled as he glanced up from the dusty tome in his lap, Adeline napping in the chair nearby. He closed the book and set it down on the table between them, gently tucking the blanket around her shoulders and picking her up. Adeline stirred and let out a soft yawn, blinking sleepily at him.

"Mmm…did I fall asleep again?" she asked, and Alistair kissed her hair.

"Yes," he replied. "You almost frightened me with your snoring – I thought the archdemon was back for revenge," he added, and Adeline chuckled, scowling playfully up at him.

"Oh that's a lie and you know it," she smiled, letting out a sigh as he set her on their bed. He lay down next to her, holding the woman in his arms, and she nuzzled closer to his chest, relaxing in his embrace. She slowly ran her hands over his chest, and Alistair felt a jolt through him – something was nagging at his mind, and he hurriedly ran his hands through her hair, letting out a sigh as he found the small, jagged scar over her temple. "What's wrong?" Adeline asked gently, seeing the relief on his face.

"It's just that…remember that sloth demon? The one that trapped us in dreams, back at Kinloch Hold?" he asked, and she nodded. "Well, this reminded me of the dream I was held in," he explained, and she raised an eyebrow.

"I…but weren't you stuck in Goldanna's house?" she wondered, and Alistair went bright red – he had forgotten that the others didn't know. "You were…trapped in a dream _before_ that, weren't you?" she was suddenly grinning, sitting up. "And since you dreamt all of this…" she suddenly gasped, falling back with a burst of laughter.

"Ugh… _please…_ " Alistair groaned as she rolled over on her side, pinching his cheeks.

"You dreamt of me? Of us, together?" she asked, and he turned on his side, facing away from her. Adeline leaned over his shoulder, pawing at his face like a cat, and grinning like one too. Alistair closed his eyes, making a point not to look at her.

"I dreamt of Sten," he said suddenly, and Adeline stopped tormenting him, staring at the man in confusion.

"What do you…?" she murmured, and Alistair looked back at her levelly.

"I came into the room, expecting to find _you_ lying in the bed, but it was _Sten_ ," he said, and she stared at him with big eyes. Alistair couldn't hold in his laughter any longer – the look on her face was _priceless._

"Y-you're having me on!" she exclaimed, blushing as Alistair sat up, hugging her and nuzzling against her cheek.

"Of course I am – I love how you blush," he replied, kissing her.

"So what did you _really_ dream about?" Adeline asked, and Alistair smirked. He slipped his hands around her back and unlaced her dress, kissing her as she fell back in the pillows.

"I'll show you, if you're so eager," he grinned, and she chuckled as she wrapped herself around him.

oooo

Zevran knelt next to Alistair, collecting the blood sample in silence, concentrating on pricking the skin in a spot where it would hurt the least. The assassin watched the Templar dreaming with some amusement – a few moments ago, his breathing had picked up a bit, and the Elf had noticed a considerable change in the man's lower half. _Ah-ha, so the mage picked up on what I meant,_ he thought, smirking as he carefully filled the vial of blood.

As Zevran corked the vial shut and staunched the bleeding, Alistair's eyes shot open, and he started awake. All he could see was a dark figure looming over him, and he smelt the faintest hint of blood in the air. Alistair lunged forward, grabbing the figure by the throat, hearing a startled gasp as he pinned his assailant to the ground. "What in the…?" he murmured, frowning once he realized who it was. He scowled as the Elf wheezed out a strangled laugh, patting his hand.

"S-strong grip you have there, my dear friend Alistair," Zevran choked out, and Alistair narrowed his eyes in the darkness.

"I knew it. I knew Adeline was too trusting," he muttered. "Give me one reason I shouldn't break your neck _right_ now," he growled, and Zevran stared up at him.

"Oh, no-no-no," the Elf grinned, "I was not trying to _kill_ you, Alistair," he assured him.

"Right," Alistair scoffed. "And you were sneaking into my tent to do what, exactly?" he asked, and Zevran smiled charmingly up at him.

"I was watching you enjoy your sex-dream," he replied in a sultry tone, and Alistair's face turned pale before going cherry-red.

"My…how do you… _what!?_ " Alistair exclaimed, and Zevran easily slipped out of his fingers as the man's grip loosened from around his throat.

"You seemed to be getting quite… _excited_ about it," the Elf added with a smirk, and Alistair glared at him – he could sense that Zevran really _wasn't_ here to kill him…but what he was doing in his tent was still a mystery. "But perhaps…you would enjoy it more if Adeline were _actively_ involved?" Zevran teased, and Alistair's scowl deepened.

"Get out, before I break that smug face of yours," he growled, and Zevran chuckled, quickly finding the blood vial and tucking it into the back of his pants.

"Of course," the assassin replied amicably, slipping out of the tent.

Alistair watched him go and let out a soft groan. He had been right, of course – Alistair _had_ rather enjoyed the dream…but not purely because of the act itself. _Only with her…_ he thought, putting his head in his hands. _Maker's breath, I'm such an animal,_ he snorted, _lusting after her in my dreams like that._

He shook his head and lay himself back down on his bedroll, trying to get some sleep. _This is going to be a long night,_ he thought with chagrin, closing his eyes, only to find the remnants of his dream playing behind his eyelids.

oOo

We made our way slowly around Lake Calenhad, the tower rising up in the distance. I wondered how things were progressing there – how the Templars were handling reorganizing the tower, and how the mages were dealing with the situation with Connor. As I looked up at the distant structure, I remembered what Sten had said when we were clearing out the tower; something about a prison for mages, if I recalled correctly.

"Sten?" I said as the Qunari walked nearby, and he nodded, indicating that he had heard me. "I remember you mentioned something about mages, once, back in the tower. What did you mean, when you called it a prison for mages?" I asked, and Sten was quiet for a few moments before answering.

"We have no mages such as you do. We have beasts in the shape of men, who perform tricks," he said, and I raised an eyebrow at his words.

"Magic is more than tricks," I remarked.

"True. I suppose it is also horror and perversion," he replied.

"Magic's not _entirely_ evil, you know," I reasoned, and Sten glanced up at me.

"As a fish stranded by the tide knows the air or a drowning man knows the sea, so does a mage know magic," he recalled a proverb, and I cocked my head at him.

"Knowledge is not as deadly as ignorance," I argued.

"Knowledge is one-half of wisdom," Sten replied gently. "But there are many things that can only be known too late."

"What do you mean when you say that your mages are beasts?" I asked curiously, and Sten shrugged.

"I misspoke. They are not beasts; beasts learn, eventually," he amended.

"But what's so terrible about magic?" I pressed – I supposed that if it was used incorrectly, it could be dangerous…

" _Mages_ ," Sten replied, and I rolled my eyes at the Qunari. "Is there some reason you insist upon discussing this?" he countered, and I shrugged.

"I'm trying to figure you out," I grinned, trying to lean nonchalantly against the seat and cringing slightly as it hurt my injured arm. "Ow…"

"I applaud your attempt to pursue knowledge, irritating as it may be," Sten remarked.

"Thanks," I smirked. "But you know, I don't think mages aren't as dangerous as you say," I argued.

"Clearly, your Chantry agrees," he replied sarcastically.

"Well, not _all_ mages are maleficar," I said.

"My people have a tale," Sten began, and I glanced at him as he walked next to me. "An ashkaari walked among the fields once, observing the laborers at work. Flax bloomed all around him, the color of still water. The air rippled like a curtain. As he stopped to examine a blossom, a bee stung him on the hand. The ashkaari turned to a laborer for aid, and noticed for the first time the heavy gloves and coat she wore. As she tended to him, the ashkaari asked them why she was dressed so in such stifling heat. 'To avoid your fate,' she replied. 'But there are many thousands of bees here,' the ashkaari said to her, 'and only one stung me. Surely your caution is unwarranted?' 'The stinger is always a surprise,' agreed the laborer. 'But so is the bee that simply passes one by'," Sten finished, and I raised an eyebrow at the tale.

"That's more words than I've ever heard you speak before," I observed.

"I've been saving them up," he replied, and I smiled faintly at him.

"I understand your point, though," I added, and he nodded, seeming pleased.

oooo

One evening, as we camped in a small clearing, Wynne approached me, looking at me quietly as I kept watch, my eyes darting about the shadows of the trees, keeping a lookout for darkspawn and wild animals. "Hello, Wynne," I greeted her as she came over. She nodded in response, sitting next to me on the fallen log where I sat. She checked over my arm, telling me that with the aid of her healing spells, it would be back to normal by the end of the week. "That's good," I sighed, tucking some hair behind my ear, "I'm sick of wearing a sling, already." We sat in silence for a while, and I glanced at Wynne, seeing that she wanted to talk. "Something on your mind, Wynne?"

"I must ask; what does being a Grey Warden mean to you?" the old woman asked, and I raised an eyebrow at the question.

"Huh," I said, scratching my neck absently. "It means taking out the archdemon, I suppose. I've never really thought about more than that, honestly," I replied.

"There's that, of course, but there's more to being a Grey Warden than killing darkspawn and saving the world from the Blight," Wynne remarked. "Ultimately, being a Grey Warden is about serving others, about serving all people, whether Elves or Dwarves or men."

"Like…protecting them?" I asked.

"As a Grey Warden you are a guardian of men, and you guard them because their continued existence is more important than you are; thus it is you who serves, not they," Wynne explained.

"I suppose that makes sense," I murmured, twirling a few strands of hair around my finger as I looked out into the woods.

"A good king – a _true_ king, who cares for his land – uses his power to rule firmly but fairly; he serves his people first and foremost. The king who does not do this, who believes that he is entitled to his power, who abuses it and uses it for his own means, is a tyrant," she continued, and I nodded.

"Mmm…so power is confining, I guess. I was never really put in a position to think so," I admitted.

"If you live apart from others, and your actions affect only you, then you may do as you wish. But if you have power, influence and strength, your every action will be as a drop of water in a clear still pond. The drop causes ripples, and ripples spread; think of how far they will go, how wide they will become – how will they affect the pond?" Wynne said. "But I've lectured enough for today. I should stop before I wear out my welcome," she added, and I smiled.

"Well, you've given me something to ponder, at least," I replied, standing as I saw Zevran approach; it was his turn to take the next watch.

I bade the two goodnight, returning to where the others were camped, glancing over at Oghren as he drank from his flask. The Dwarf let out a loud belch, noticing me watching. He glared at me, pointing an accusing finger and wobbling a bit. "You! You have a lot of nerve coming here!" he yelled, and I glanced behind me. No one was there, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Um…is there a problem, Oghren?" I asked, walking over to the Dwarf, the smell of alcohol permeating the air around him like a small cloud.

"Problem…Aye! I got a problem with your _face!_ " he retorted, taking another swig from his flask, his eyes slightly glazed, and his cheeks flushed. "You keep it up and I'll fight you! I don't even care that you're some kind of wool-gnawing _poetess!_ " he rumbled, and I bit back a smile.

"Poetess?" I asked, and he glowered at me.

"You came and…and stole my own princess with your…your _poetry!_ " he growled, suddenly weepy.

"Ooooh, you think I'm _Hespith_ ," I concluded, and he pointed at me again, nearly falling down.

"Your disguise can't fool me, woman!" Oghren slurred, narrowing his eyes and sloshing some of his drink in the grass as he held the flask upside-down. "That's right, you keep looking at me like that! I'll just go get my pants from that sodding dog…" he muttered, staggering forward and falling, passing out on the grass.

"Hmm…I think I'll be taking this," I said gently, taking the flask from his fingers and screwing the top shut, tying it back to his belt and pushing the sleeping Dwarf into a sitting position.

"Need help?" Leliana asked as she sat by the fire, writing something in a journal.

"Yes please. Maker's breath, he's _heavy_ for such a small thing – like a boulder," I replied, the two of us dragging Oghren by the arms and bringing him to his tent, tossing a blanket over him before returning to the fire. "Writing something?" I asked, and Leliana nodded, smiling at my curious look.

"I have been setting down, in ink, the tales of our exploits; they are stories worth saving, no?" she replied, and I smiled.

"I suppose that's true," I sighed. _Let's hope there's a happy ending,_ I thought. I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of the fire wash over me as I let my shoulders relax. I heard Leliana shifting beside me, and I opened one eye, glancing at her.

"I lied to you, you know? About why I left Orlais," Leliana said softly, setting down her writing materials and looking into the fire.

"So you didn't get tired of the life?" I asked, and she shrugged weakly. I had always suspected she was hiding something, but I had never wanted to force her to tell me if she didn't feel comfortable speaking about it.

"In a way I did, but these feelings were triggered by events which I did not tell you about. I didn't feel like talking about it then, but what happened to me…" she trailed off, glancing at me with sad eyes. "Maybe it will affect us, maybe not, but you should know; I came to Ferelden and the Chantry because I was being hunted, in Orlais." I felt my eyes widen in surprise at her words, glancing at her with mixed curiosity and concern.

"Hunted? What for?" I wondered, and Leliana bit her lip, knitting her fingers together and resting them on her knees.

"I was framed, betrayed by someone I thought I knew and could trust; Marjolaine – she was my mentor…and friend. She taught me the bardic arts – how to enchant with words and song, to carry myself like a high-born lady, to blend in as a servant… The skills I learned I used to serve her, my bard-master, because I loved her, and because I enjoyed what I did," Leliana confessed, and I looked at her carefully. There was so much pain and sadness in her eyes, but also, deep below it, I could see a lingering bitterness and hatred.

"How did she betray you?" I asked softly, and she looked at me quietly for a moment before letting out a long sigh, trying to compose herself.

"You can say it was my fault. There was a man I was sent to kill, and I was to bring Marjolaine everything he carried," Leliana recalled quietly, her eyes almost grey in the light of the fire. "I don't know who this man was; she gave me a name and a description, and I hunted him down. I found documents on his body – sealed documents," she added.

"Important documents?" I guessed, and she nodded.

"It turns out that they were," she confirmed. "My curiosity got the better of me. Something told me that I needed to know what was in those letters." Leliana was quiet for a moment, biting her lip. "Marjolaine…had been selling all kinds of information about Orlais to other countries – Nevarra and Antiva, among others; it was treason."

I looked at her oddly, slightly confused. "But…isn't that what bards do?" I asked, and she shrugged weakly.

"Some, but I had always assumed Marjolaine only operated within Orlais. This was an unhappy surprise for me," Leliana replied. "My life as bard taught me that my loyalties should be kept fluid; my concern was not that she was a traitor, but that her life would be in danger if she was caught. Orlais has been at war with so many countries; it takes a harsh view of such things…as I later discovered," Leliana added, and I noticed her shoulders tense slightly, and saw the tiny flash of anger in her eyes.

"You gave the documents to someone?" I guessed, and she nodded.

"To Marjolaine – no one else. I resealed them and gave them to her, as she had instructed. I should have left well alone, but I didn't; I had to tell Marjolaine I feared for her life. She brushed aside my concern – she admitted her guilt, but said it was in the past. That is why the documents had to be destroyed, she said," Leliana recalled, her voice soft as she looked at me, her eyes pained. "I believed her. I kept believing, up till the moment they showed me the documents, altered by her hand to make _me_ look the traitor," she murmured, and I felt my jaw tighten slightly.

"She betrayed you?" I asked, my tone carrying a hint of steel, and Leliana nodded slightly.

"Yes… The Orlesian guards, they captured me…did terrible things to make me confess and reveal my conspirators. It was a traitor's punishment I endured, and at the end of it, all that awaited me was eternity in an unmarked grave," her eyes were distant as she recalled it, and she stared blankly at the fire for a few moments. Her nug came over and sniffed her hand, and she jumped slightly, her expression softening a bit as she stroked the little animal's back.

"How did you get out?" I wondered.

"The skills Marjolaine taught me were good for something, at least. I broke free when I saw the opportunity. I did not seek Marjolaine out; if she thought I was coming for her, she would have me caught again," Leliana replied.

"And so you came to Ferelden, to Lothering," I concluded, and she nodded, picking up Schmooples and putting him on her lap, scratching behind the nug's ears as he let out small grunts.

"I was tempted to confront her; I was furious, betrayed, but what could I do against her? And so I fled, to Ferelden, to the Chantry and the Maker. Ferelden protected my person, and the Maker saved my soul. And that is the reason I am here – the _real_ reason. No more lies between us, at least in this," Leliana finished, and I looked at her, determination in my eyes.

"You will be safe in my company," I promised, and Leliana smiled faintly.

"It feels good to have this off my chest. Thank you for listening, and understanding," she sighed. I went to bed, Olan curling up next to me, and I scratched the dog's ears. _I guess we've all got secrets and troubled pasts, hmm?_ I thought, drifting off to sleep.

oooo

Oghren seemed a little less sharp the next day, and he noticed my brief, curious glances as he walked next to the cart. "Whatcha need?" he asked.

"I'd like to know more about you, Oghren," I replied, and he snorted at my curiosity.

"What about?" he prompted, taking a sip from his flask.

"What was it like, being a warrior in Orzammar?" I asked, and he shrugged, picking a twig out of his beard.

"You get a sword or an axe and are told to go out and defend your city. It's the best thing in the world," he sighed, scoffing suddenly and shaking his head. "That is until you try to _live_ in the city you saved."

"What do you mean?" I asked – I thought that the warrior-caste was very highly regarded in Orzammar.

"I mean, they train you to kill, teach you to harness your rage at the first noise you hear, then try to set a hundred sodding rules about it," Oghren explained. "Like those Provings. Ancestors show their favor through the strongest arm, right? So why so many rules saying how to fight and when you win, and not to bloody kill? Killing's what swords are for!" he argued, waving his arm about.

"Why didn't they just give you blunted weapons?" I asked, and he snorted.

"You can kill with blunted weapons, Warden. Hmph, and _you_ can kill with your bare sodding hands," he added, and I rolled my eyes. "Ach. This makes me cranky. Don't you have any other inane questions?" he muttered, taking a swig from his flask and growling at Olan as he came too close, the mabari's eyes sparkling with mischief as he approached the Dwarf.

"Well, how do you like the surface, then?" I asked, and he looked up at the sky, still squinting his eyes a bit.

"It's sodding great. At first I was a little queasy, with all that air, but…there's just so much of it!" he breathed, and I smiled, glad that he didn't feel sick anymore. "No one has any idea who you are, or what you're doing. And the ale! Who'd have thought, ale made with grain!" he chuckled, and I laughed.

"You like it that much, eh?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Aye, the surface is great. It's like a big, bright world of filth without a ceiling. My kind of place," he replied. "Hey, let's go find something to kill, huh? All this talk makes my hands twitchy," he added, and I snorted.

"Plenty of time for that when we encounter darkspawn, don't you worry," I promised.

oooo

We reached the Circle tower by the end of the week; we rented rooms back at the Spoiled Princess, and an old man named Kester took me across to the tower to see the mages. First Enchanter Irving greeted me warmly, and told me that he had gone to Redcliffe with a few of his mages to see to the situation with Connor.

The First Enchanter himself had entered the Fade and battled a powerful desire demon, removing it from Connor and freeing the boy. He had left a mage and Templar at Redcliffe castle to look after Connor until the Circle was restored, and the mage was also to investigate the Arl's illness. When I told Irving about Dagna wanting to study at the Circle, he seemed intrigued by the idea, but also quite happy; he promised to send someone to Orzammar to fetch her, as soon as he was able.

I also asked about the Templar we had met near the Harrowing Chamber, Cullen – I had hoped that his grief and anger might have settled down after some time, but the Knight-Commander told me that he had been reassigned because of his instability, and had been sent from Kinloch Hold in the hopes that he could regain himself away from the site of such tragedy. Cullen had been sent to the Free Marches; to Kirkwall.

When I returned to the inn, I overheard Oghren asking around for someone, and I raised an eyebrow, curious. _Does he know anyone on the surface?_ I wondered, shrugging and leaving the Dwarf to his business. Neria and Katja had gone into the woods nearby; Katja had wanted to see the forest up close, and Neria said that if they were very quiet, they might even see animals, which had gotten Katja very excited. The two had become quite close in such a short time, and I wondered if they weren't the reincarnations of a pair of sisters in a past life. Jowan had decided to go along with them in cat form, still uncomfortable with being so close to the tower.

Morrigan was sitting by the fire, scribbling down notes in her small journal, and Leliana sat nearby, Olan sitting next to her as she held Schmooples in her lap, idly stroking the nug's ears. "You are very beautiful, Morrigan," Leliana remarked, and Morrigan didn't even glance up from her writing.

"Tell me something I do not know," Morrigan replied absently, and I bit back a snort, heading upstairs.

"But you are always dressed in such rags. It suits you, I suppose…a little tear here, a little rip there to show some skin. I understand…" Leliana continued, unperturbed.

"You understand I lived in a forest, I hope," Morrigan said, glancing up at Leliana, the red-haired girl growing excited as she looked Morrigan over.

"Maybe we could get you in a nice dress one day. Silk…no, maybe velvet. Velvet is heavier, better to guard against the cold in Ferelden," Leliana babbled. "Dark red velvet, yes…with gold embroidery… It should be cut low in the front, of course. We don't want to hide your features," she added, and Morrigan made a face.

"Stop…looking at my breasts like that. 'Tis most disturbing," the dark-haired woman said, but Leliana didn't seem to hear.

"You don't think so? And if it's cut low in the front, we must put your hair up, show off that lovely neck…"

"You are insane. I would sooner let _Alistair_ dress me," Morrigan muttered, suddenly uncomfortable under Leliana's gaze.

"It'll be fun, I promise! We'll get some shoes too!" Leliana gasped at the mention of shoes, startling Olan, who had nodded off next to her. " _Shoes!_ We could go _shopping_ together," she grinned eagerly, and Morrigan rolled her eyes, returning to her writing as Leliana babbled on.

I stood by the door to my room, listening to my friends chattering in the main hall of the inn below, smiling faintly. _They seem content enough,_ I thought, _but how long can it last?_ I leaned my head against the wooden door, closing my eyes and letting out a long breath, shoulders sagging with wear as I finally felt my mask crack.

oOo

Alistair listened to Leliana and Morrigan by the fire as he sorted through his equipment, inspecting the buckles on his greaves and bracers. As he placed the armor back in his pack, satisfied that it was in good shape, he noticed that there was a small hole in his shirt, down by his right side. He made a face, poking a finger through it and glancing over at Wynne, who was knitting a very large scarf at a table in the corner, while Zevran sat nearby, taking a small sip of a vibrantly-colored liquid and then sitting back, his body tensing as a thin layer of sweat coated his forehead.

" _Really_ Zevran, must you do that here?" Wynne asked impatiently, and Zevran laughed weakly, looking at the old woman with pain-glazed eyes.

"If something goes wrong, I shall trust you to heal me; dearest Morrigan would simply point and laugh, should I succumb to it," the Elf replied, and Alistair raised an eyebrow, wondering what was going on.

"I fail to see the reason behind deliberately ingesting spider venom in the first place," Wynne remarked, and Zevran grinned.

"How _else_ will I become immune to it, my darling Wynne?" Zevran countered cheerily, letting out a slow breath and trying to relax himself, ignoring Wynne's withering glare at the endearment. He glanced up at Alistair, noticing his approach, and he nodded towards the vial that sat on the table. "Care to partake in a glass of spider venom with me, my good Warden?" the Elf joked, shuddering and looking as if he were about to vomit, his fingernails digging into the arms of the chair and his knuckles turning white.

"Uh…I think I'll _pass_ ," Alistair replied, glancing at Wynne, who shook her head at the Elf. "Wynne?" Alistair asked, and the old woman looked at him, nodding.

"Yes, Alistair?" Wynne replied, noticing the 'I'd like to ask you a favor' tone the young Templar was using.

"My shirt has a hole in it," he said, indicating said hole.

"I see. And?" Wynne replied, and Alistair shuffled about awkwardly.

"Can you mend it?" he asked, and Wynne nearly rolled her eyes at his sad-puppy look.

"Can't you mend your own clothes? Why do I have to do it?" Wynne countered, and Alistair shrugged.

"Sometimes I pick up too much fabric and it ends up all puckered and the entire garment hangs wrong afterward," he argued. "And you're…you know, grandmotherly. Grandmothers do that sort of thing, don't they? Darning socks and whatnot," he added. "You don't want me to have to fight darkspawn in a shirt with a _hole_ , do you? It might get _bigger_. I might catch _cold_ ," Alistair urged dramatically, and Wynne sighed.

"Oh, alright. I'll mend your shirt," Wynne relented.

"Ooh! And while you're at it, the elbows kind of need patching too…" he began, and Wynne gave him a no-nonsense look.

"Careful, young man, or puckered garments may be the least of your problems," she remarked, and Alistair nodded.

"Yes ma'am!" he said, picking up his things and going upstairs to change so he could give Wynne his shirt. As he walked up the stairs, he glanced towards Adeline's room, spotting the Elf standing outside of her door with her forehead pressed against the wood, looking as if she were about to cry. _Oh dear…_ Alistair thought, quickly putting down his things and walking over. "Having a bit of a breakdown, my dear?" he tried, his tone teasing but gentle, and Adeline glanced up as he approached, biting her lip and glancing down with embarrassment.

"Uh…that was supposed to happen on the… _other_ side of the door," the girl murmured awkwardly, leaning against the frame and looking up at him. Alistair was quiet, watching her expression carefully, his eyes worried at the strain on her face. "I'm alright Alistair. Just a little tired," Adeline assured him weakly, but he was unconvinced.

"Do you want to talk?" Alistair asked softly, and Adeline nodded, letting out a quiet breath and placing her hand on the doorknob.

"Come in," she said, indicating the door. The two entered her room, and Adeline stood by the window, looking outside at the moon-lit lake. _She looks so tired,_ Alistair thought, seeing the dark circles under her eyes. He joined her by the window, reaching out and running his fingers along her jaw. She glanced up at him with those bright, green eyes, and Alistair saw worry reflected in them, wanting to pull her into a hug and tell her that everything would be alright. _But I can't do that,_ he thought reluctantly, _not without hurting her arm._

"You shouldn't stress yourself out so much," Alistair murmured, placing his fingers on Adeline's chin, and she smiled faintly as his thumb brushed her lower lip.

"You're very kind to worry about me, my dear," Adeline replied, taking his hand in hers. She felt the calluses on his palm and fingers with her thumb, the roughness of his hand against hers, and she traced over an old cut along the palm that had left a scar. _The hands of a warrior,_ she thought, closing her eyes for a moment. She raised his hand to her lips, kissing the scar gently before turning his fingers over, pressing a soft kiss against each of his knuckles.

"You can tell me what's troubling you. You know that I'll listen," Alistair said gently, and Adeline let go of his hand, looking up at him and searching deep in his eyes, anxiety reflected in hers.

"There's so much that needs to be done… Do you think we'll be able to do this?" the girl asked softly, just barely above a whisper, and Alistair frowned.

"You've never had doubts before…at least, not that you've shared," he remarked, and Adeline shrugged, glancing at the ground.

"I don't know, Alistair. Everywhere we go, terrible things seem to happen. First Redcliffe, then the Circle, then Orzammar…" she trailed off, chewing her lip nervously. "Maybe it's me. Maybe I just bring bad luck wherever I go," the Elf sighed, and Alistair rolled his eyes.

"Adeline, don't be ridiculous," he snorted, placing his hands on either side of the girl's face and making her look at him. "If you weren't here, neither would most of us," he said firmly, nodding towards the stairs, indicating the others. "None of what happened was under your control; you didn't release abominations into the tower, you didn't poison Arl Eamon, and you didn't kill the Dwarves' previous king. Just because bad things are happening _around_ us, that doesn't make it _your_ fault," he argued.

"I know…I'm sorry," Adeline murmured, looking into his eyes and smiling faintly. "Would you…stay with me a bit longer?" she whispered, lightly taking his hand in hers, and he nodded.

"Of course," he replied, walking with her as she led him to the bed.

"Just…until I fall asleep," she added softly. Alistair waited for her to lie down before sliding next to her, gingerly wrapping his arms around her so he wouldn't hurt her arm. He put out the candle and settled down, looking at her in the faint moonlight, and Adeline smiled. "Alistair…" she whispered, her cheeks reddening a bit, "when…you're with me, the nightmares aren't so bad."

Alistair smiled gently at her, pressing his forehead against the back of her head as she closed her eyes. "Sleep well," he murmured, and she let out a soft sigh, relaxing in his arms. When she had drifted off, Alistair moved very slowly, disentangling himself from the girl and sitting up, pausing as he glanced at the nightstand near the bed.

The rose he had given her was sitting there, perfect as the day he had found it, as if it had been preserved by magic. He raised the rose to his nose, breathing in the scent before setting it back down, smiling at Adeline once more before letting her sleep, closing the door as quietly as he could.

One of Adeline's eyes cracked open, and she looked at the rose, a faint smile on her lips – she almost wished Alistair had stayed the night. _I…think I love him,_ she thought, letting out a soft sigh and drifting back to sleep.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	32. Chapter 32: One Step Closer

Chapter 32

One Step Closer

Author note:

Thank you, everyone who has favorited and followed so far, and thank you to those of you who've left reviews - I love hearing from you all :D

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[August – late summer]

We headed back to Redcliffe, following the road that ran alongside Lake Calenhad. As Wynne had promised, my arm made a full recovery by the end of the week. In the evenings, when we were in camp, I began sketching again, trying to calm myself down after the long days of travel, and I began sparring with Alistair, Neria and Zevran to get myself back into fighting shape.

One evening, I sat in silence, sketching Zevran; he was sitting across the fire from me and inspecting one of his blades, the metal glowing orange in the firelight. I watched as Wynne walked over, sitting down nearby and warming her hands by the fire, nodding to me in greeting. I nodded back absently, and Zevran glanced up at the movement, a small, mischievous smile on his face.

"You have not asked me about my conscience for some time, my darling Wynne," he remarked, and I sensed Wynne tense slightly beside me.

"That is correct. And I am not your 'darling'," the old woman replied coolly. Zevran let out a long, set-upon sigh, looking dejectedly at the fire.

"So once again I am rejected, just as I am by the cruel, cruel fates," the Elf said. "They are harsh mistresses to the Elves," he added melodramatically, and I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to concentrate on my drawing.

"Zevran, I am old enough to be your _grandmother_ ," Wynne argued, and Zevran smirked.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he replied, and Wynne narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms as she looked at the incorrigible Elf.

"And what would you do with me if you had me, hm? This is a game you play, nothing more," she scoffed, and Zevran smiled.

"Ha, you are a cynical woman, Wynne," he observed. "Cynical and powerful. It drives me mad with desire," he added, and Wynne shook her head, remaining silent. "So let us pretend that I _do_ , indeed, believe that murder is wrong," he began after a while, and Wynne closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"We are _not_ having this conversation," she said firmly, but Zevran went on, unperturbed.

"Were I to believe such a thing, what would I do with it? Feeling guilt about things one can no longer change seems so very time-consuming with little hope for actual gain," he argued, and Wynne sighed, looking at the Elf and seeing that maybe he was serious this time.

"But you could change what you do in the _future_ ," she replied, and Zevran thought about it for a moment, letting out a small sigh.

"What would that require, exactly? It seems to me that feeling guilty would take up a great deal of my time as it is," he remarked.

"Perhaps you could _save_ a life, instead? One for every life you have taken," Wynne suggested.

"That is a great many lives to save _and_ feel guilty as well. Perhaps I could do one or the other?" Zevran asked, and Wynne sighed, seeing that this was going nowhere.

"It is not a _game_ , Zevran. You either know right from wrong or you do not," the woman argued, and Zevran looked at her, his expression distraught.

"I…I am so confused," he said, placing his hands on cheeks and looking at Wynn tearfully. "I think I may cry. May I lay my head in your bosom?" he asked, gazing at her with big eyes, and Wynne scowled, making a frustrated sound.

"No! No you may not!" she nearly yelled, seeing Zevran's smug grin.

"You are so very cruel. How is it that you do not feel guilty?" he asked, and Wynne stood.

"I feel guilty for having ever spoken to you," the woman huffed, storming off. I pursed my lips, trying to keep my hand steady as I finished the sketch, biting back a laugh. I concentrated on the sketch, carefully finishing it as I drew the curved outline of the tattoo along Zevran's cheek. I closed the sketchbook as Oghren wobbled over – his watch was next.

"Staying sober enough for lookout?" I asked, and the Dwarf grunted, unscrewing the top from his flask and taking a long swig, plopping down next to me and leaning his back against the log. He beat his chest and let out a belch, waking up Olan, who had been napping nearby.

"Whatcha need, boss?" Oghren asked, noticing me watching him.

 _…boss?_ "I just wanted to check on you. Are you...sure you're fine with what happened with Branka?" I asked delicately, and Oghren grunted, shrugging and taking another drink.

"Oh, sure, I'm fine with it. I mean, she was a real firebrand between the sheets, but a bit soft in the skull, you know what I mean? Explains why she left, anyway," Oghren replied, and I raised an eyebrow. _Wow. I was a sobbing mess when Nelaros died, and I knew him for a_ _ **day**_ _. Maybe he's just…holding it in,_ I thought.

"You're…handling this rather well," I remarked, and Oghren glanced back at me.

"Handling what? Branka? Psht. That treasure's been long buried. Ancestors take me, you people whine like teakettles around here," Oghren muttered, shaking his head and absently stroking one of the braids on his beard.

"Well, I imagine she wasn't _that_ crazy when she left," I tried, and he shrugged.

"Oh, you don't know her. She was cracked like a glass floor – _before_ she was a Paragon, I mean. After that she really fell apart," Oghren replied, picking a bit of grass out of his hair. "I mean, she leaves me and flits about with that watered tart Hespith. What's she got that I don't?" he asked grumpily, taking a draught from his flask. "Just the thought of the two of them together, kissing, licking, intertwined on the floor of the Deep Roads…" Oghren trailed off, and a strange look crossed his face. He stood, putting away his flask.

"I'm, ah, just gonna go back to the tent for a moment. Excuse me," the Dwarf said, leaving. I stared after him with wide eyes, my face going white as a sheet. Zevran saw the look on my face, hissing quiet laughter through his teeth. _MAKER'S BREATH,_ I thought, shaking my head and returning to my own tent for the evening, covering my ears as I retreated.

oooo

As we neared Redcliffe, I glanced up at Morrigan, who was flying overhead in her raven form, with Jowan spiraling around next to her as a sparrow. _Hmm…now what am I going to do about that promise? I'd be an idiot to go after Flemeth on my own, but I don't really want to put the others in danger._ I tried to put the thought out of my head, listening as my companions chatted amongst one another. Someone stumbled behind the cart, and I heard Oghren swear. _Is Olan bothering him again?_ I wondered, turning to my right and spotting the dog trotting beside Alistair.

"Dwarf," I heard Sten say behind me, and I glanced discreetly over my shoulder, seeing him talking to Oghren.

"What?" Oghren asked.

"Stop tripping me," the Qunari said, and Oghren snorted.

"Stop tripping _yourself!_ " the Dwarf retorted.

"If you were significant enough to notice, I wouldn't step on you," Sten countered, and I tugged my scarf over my mouth, hiding my grin and trying not to laugh. _Ouch._

"Oh, well…your _mother!_ " Oghren replied, and Sten raised an eyebrow.

"…That was disappointing. I expected better from you," the Qunari remarked, and Oghren shrugged.

"Sorry, I was in a rush," the Dwarf apologized.

I glanced over at Zevran, who was looking absently at the scenery, although I noticed that his eyes would occasionally linger on Neria. He noticed my look, smiling slightly. "So tell me more about your adventures," I said suddenly, and he laughed.

"Again? Well, now…what might interest you, I wonder?" Zevran mused, crossing his arms and tapping his chin lightly in thought. He snapped his fingers, landing on something. "Shall I describe the stages involved with lanthrax poisoning? I watched a man go through all _seven_ , once," he offered, and I grinned.

"Sounds like fun! Should I take notes?" I joked, and he laughed.

"You have rather macabre tastes, I see. I like that," the Elf smiled up at me, amusement in his amber eyes. "Let's see. How about the largest battle I ever took part in? That would have been the slaughter of Prince Azrin. Did you hear of that down in these parts?" he asked, and my eyes widened in surprise.

"You killed a _prince?_ " Neria exclaimed incredulously as she walked nearby, listening as well, and Zevran shook his head.

"Me? Not personally, but I _did_ take part in the attack," Zevran elaborated. "Prince Azrin was fourth in line to the throne, you see. He started off as eleventh, but worked his way up the old-fashioned method, by inheriting control of an entire Crow cell from his grandfather," he continued, and I nodded slightly, listening with interest. "After assassinating his way through the royal family, the king hired three other cells to take down Prince Azrin once and for all. I was in one of those cells," Zevran said, and Neria looked at him oddly.

"So is this sort of thing common in Antiva?" she asked, voicing my question, and he shrugged, seeing our puzzlement.

"Antivan royalty is very much bound up in the Crows. You wouldn't want it run by a bunch of commoners, after all, would you? And this means they get involved in politics quite often," Zevran explained. "This particular fight nearly bankrupted the nation, I understand. It almost ended up putting a Crow on the throne, a commoner…but that's a whole different story. I played a very small part," he added, surprising me. _Is he…being humble? Who are you and what have you done with Zevran?_ I thought humorously, trying not to smirk.

"What did you do?" I asked curiously.

"My part in the entire battle was taken up trying to reach Princess Ferenna, who had thrown in with her brother. I killed about eleven of her guards personally before I got knocked out of a window. I landed in the river and nearly drowned," Zevran said, making a face at the memory. "I was fished out by some urchins who robbed me blind – made off with my boots, too," he added sourly. "At least they didn't cut my throat. And that was my part in history," he concluded.

"You got robbed by urchins?" Neria asked, and Zevran nodded.

"Hm. I had to find my way back to the safe house, bruised and naked. And thankful to be alive," he replied.

"You're very lucky, indeed," I remarked, impressed by the tale.

"It's true. I live a charmed life," he admitted. "One of the prostitutes that raised me was a fortune teller. Said I wouldn't die young. She was rather startled by that. But there you go. Tale told. Let's be off before I tell more embarrassing stories, hmm?" he joked, and I rolled my eyes.

"Here, in fairness I suppose I should tell you something about myself, then," I remarked, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?" he asked curiously. "What will you tell me?"

"Well…what would you like to know?" I replied, and he crossed his arms, thinking deeply.

"Hmm…how about your childhood? What was it like, growing up in Denerim?" he asked curiously, and I was almost surprised by his question.

"My…childhood?" I repeated, and he smirked.

"Ah, rife with embarrassing stories of your youth?" he joked, and I snorted.

"Oh don't you know it," Neria chuckled, grinning up at me as I rolled my eyes. "Do you know she got so drunk once that she got a great sodding tattoo done all across her ba–"

" _Neria!_ " I exclaimed, flushing red, and Zevran laughed.

"Oh, a tattoo on your back? Now my curiosity is piqued," Zevran said, and I glared at the two.

"No. You get to hear about growing up in Denerim," I said with finality, clearing my throat as I tried to settle down. "I was born in the Alienage in Denerim, as you know. My mother died when I was young…although she managed to pass on her martial training to me," I began. "Adaia was her name. She was a…free spirit," I explained, smiling sadly as I remembered her; she was full of laughter and light. "She had a temper like a wildfire, and was quick as lightning with a blade."

"You loved her very much," Neria observed, and I nodded; I hadn't ever really spoken about my mother to her and Daveth, and they had never asked, knowing that it was a touchy subject.

"Everyone did," I continued. "I'm…not sure how it happened – my father never really said – but one day, she was killed by some city guards," I sighed. "I suppose…nothing _needed_ to have happened, really. Such is the way for us in the Alienages; one wrong look, or a word…or even nothing at all, and you can find yourself face-down in a gutter with the sod beaten out of you, a swear on your last breath," I murmured, my tone dark as I looked at the ground. "But…it wasn't _all_ misery and despair," I added in a slightly lighter tone. "I still had my father, Cyrion, and my cousins, Shianni and Soris."

"No siblings?" Zevran asked, and I shook my head.

"No…but I was very close to my cousins – Soris and I are about the same age – he's a little older – and Shianni's two years younger than us; we were as close as siblings could be," I explained. "Shianni's got a fiery temper…with a little too much spark, in my opinion," I murmured the last part under my breath, and Zevran laughed. "Hey, _I_ know when to hold my tongue…mostly. Shianni doesn't, and it gets her into all sorts of trouble," I added. "Soris was always the most level-headed of the three of us," I continued. "He's the nervous sort – soft-spoken and submissive…but he _does_ have a temper, too, if you really dig at him. Runs in the family, I guess," I snorted softly.

"You sound like you miss them very much," Leliana spoke up suddenly, and I glanced back, my face reddening – everyone had been listening to us, and I glanced down in embarrassment.

"Well…well _yes_ , but…" I murmured awkwardly, "but even so, I shouldn't let that side-track me," I added firmly. "A-anyway," I cleared my throat, continuing, "this probably won't surprise you, but I used to be _quite_ the successful pickpocket."

"Is this about how you met Daveth?" Alistair asked, and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm _getting_ there!" I laughed, glancing over to him. "Wait, how'd you know?" I added, and Alistair smiled slightly.

"Daveth told me a little bit about it once," he replied.

"You met Daveth? I thought he went missing," Neria asked curiously, and I pursed my lips.

"He uh…was also a Grey Warden recruit," I replied, and her eyes widened. They fell again at the implication, and she sighed.

"Ah, well, the man always wanted to do something big, even if he denied it," Neria remarked, crossing her arms. "At least he got to see you again," she added with a small smile as she looked back at me.

"He was a good sort," I agreed, continuing the story. "Well, it happened about six years ago – I was fourteen, and had started looking for work in the city. Maybe something like a scullery maid – house-servant work. My father said I was too young…but we needed the money. I couldn't find any jobs that lasted, of course – at the time I didn't know when to hold my tongue, so the first snide remark got me a good caning, and the next got me fired," I recalled, shaking my head.

"You were still young," Leliana said, and I snorted.

"And a haughty idiot still hurting from her mother's death," I replied, though not sharply – it was simply a fact. "So I decided to try my hand at picking pockets…which I was quite good at," I continued. "Well…one day, I was out in the market district, sizing up my mark – a tall merchant selling Orlesian silks. I made my way through the crowd easily enough – no one noticed a stray Elf child – but just as I reached the man and cut his purse, I ran into a boy about my age, trying to do the same exact thing," I recalled with a small laugh.

"The merchant noticed us and cried for the guards. The boy panicked – I could tell it was his first time in such a crowded place – so I grabbed his arm and ran," I described. "We lost the guards in the back alleyways of the Poor Quarter, climbing onto the rooftops and outrunning them in their armor. Once we got to safety, the boy thanked me for saving him," I said, pausing with a smirk.

"What's that look for?" Katja asked curiously.

"I punched him in the face and nearly broke his nose," I grinned, and she laughed. "After that, we came to an agreement – we would take turns causing distractions while the other picked pockets and cut purses. Of course, Daveth did other work on the side as he got older – he ran with one of the local crime rings; I still had to save his sorry hide every now and again, though, when a break-in went bad, or the guards caught wind of him," I added with a shrug, "but things worked out fairly well with us. Up until I met Duncan, Daveth was the only human I considered to be a half-decent person. I guess I'm a rather strange judge of character," I remarked with a crooked smile.

"So what happened?" Zevran asked, and I shrugged.

"Well…early spring this year, Daveth went missing. I thought the garrison finally caught him, but I wondered why there hadn't been a public execution – he was rather infamous at that point, and I thought the guards would be celebrating in the streets," I recalled. "It turns out that he _did_ get caught…but Duncan managed to rescue him, and conscript him into the Grey Wardens. We met again at Ostagar and went through our…initiation together," I said, picking my words more carefully.

"There is an initiation?" Leliana asked curiously, and I nodded slightly.

"Yes but it's…a secret, and it isn't my place to say what it entails," I replied apologetically, glancing at Alistair, who smiled slightly. "And in the ensuing battle…none of the other Grey Wardens survived, we're told – they were all stationed with the king's forces," I added softly.

"Ah. I am sorry," Zevran said apologetically, and I shrugged.

"I get the feeling that Daveth still would have taken the risk, had we known the danger. He had a good heart, buried under all the grit, and would have made a good Warden," I smiled softly, remembering my friend fondly.

"Wait, but if none of the other Grey Wardens survived, how did you two?" Katja asked curiously, and I glanced at Alistair.

"Yes, I find it rather curious as well," Wynne added, and I sighed.

"There was a tower at Ostagar – the Tower of Ishal – where a beacon was to be lit, which was the signal for Loghain and his men to charge," Alistair began. "King Cailan decided to send Adeline and myself to light it…for some reason. I suppose I should be grateful that we were so lucky," he explained, and I crossed my arms.

"No, that's not right – it wasn't luck," I interjected, and he glanced back at me. "Cailan asked for you by name. I just happened to get sent along because I'm your junior, and it would raise questions if a junior member was sent to battle instead of you," I replied, and Alistair's eyes widened.

"He…asked for me by _name?_ Why? Why would he do that?" Alistair looked at me with confusion.

"Hmm…did Cailan know about you?" I asked, and Alistair shrugged.

"I'm not sure. Maybe? I doubt Loghain and King Maric would tell someone as excitable as Cailan that he's got a bastard sibling – the whole kingdom would know in a fortnight," Alistair replied, and a few of our companions were staring at him with wide eyes.

"Wait…bastard sibling…? Are you…?" Wynne asked, and Alistair glanced about at the looks of confusion on their faces.

"Oh, right; I never told everyone," he realized. "Well, then, everyone; I'm not just a bastard – I'm the royal bastard of King Maric. Surprise, I guess," he explained wryly, and I laughed.

"See? You _did_ get to use that line!" I grinned, and he smiled slightly. The others were a bit surprised, but seemed to take it in stride, nonetheless. "But maybe…Cailan _did_ know. I mean, when the two of you are in the same place at the same time, it's hard _not_ to wonder whether you're siblings or not," I continued, and Alistair nodded slightly, considering my words. "And maybe…he sent you to the Tower of Ishal to protect you? In case something happened in the battle? I mean, it was _supposed_ to be a safe enough location…" I added, and Alistair looked thoughtful.

"Hmm…maybe I'm not giving Cailan enough credit, then. Perhaps he _did_ know…" Alistair fell silent, seeming to mull the words over as we continued on.

oooo

The evening before we reached Redcliffe, Alistair approached me as I kept watch, sitting on a tall, flat stone by the edge of camp. He joined me, and I smiled, leaning my head against his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around my waist, looking out into the dark woods before us. "I'm wondering something," he began, and I glanced up at him. "I'd like to know your thoughts about some of our…traveling companions. Do you mind if I ask?" he said, and I grinned.

"Time for the juicy gossip, I take it?" I joked, and he smiled crookedly.

"I've got this _nefarious_ plan to go around to each of them and secretly tell them all the _nasty_ things you said. That way they'll mutiny and _I_ shall become the group leader!" he explained, giving me his best evil laugh.

"Very cute. So you know, I'm laughing _at_ you, not _with_ you," I teased, kissing the tip of his nose, and he clutched dramatically at his chest.

"Ouch. Now I'm _wounded_. Look at me, bleeding all over the place. You're just not very nice, are you?" he smiled, ruffling my hair playfully as I complained. "Seriously though, I'm only curious. I've had enough time to form my own opinions and I just want to see if yours are any different," he added, and I shrugged.

"Only if you tell me your opinion, as well," I said as I flattened down my hair, and he smirked.

"Just try and stop me," he replied. "Let's see…where should I begin? How about Oghren? You must have an opinion on the _smell_ at the very least," he started, and I glanced back at the Dwarf, who was snorting and grunting quietly in his sleep, his flask still clutched in his hand as he leaned against a fallen log. Katja was sitting nearby and shaking her head, muttering 'stupid drunk' and watching as Olan snuck up on him, trying to steal the Dwarf's flask.

"I actually rather like him," I said.

"I would, too, if he could stick to the ribald stories and not so much with the belching and projectile vomiting. Once he's had a bit to drink…forget that, there is no 'bit to drink' with him," Alistair snorted, glancing back at the Dwarf as well.

"Hehehe… _asschabs_ …" Oghren chuckled in his sleep, and we exchanged slightly confused looks.

"Where does he even _get_ the liquor? I know he doesn't borrow money from _me_ for it," I murmured, and Alistair scoffed, grinning at me.

" _Where?_ You didn't think that big pack he brings with him is full of equipment, did you? The man is a walking _brewery_ ," Alistair laughed. "Not that it's all bad – Dwarven ale has its charms, I suppose. I just don't think you need to drink to the point of blindness _every_ time," he added.

"He's an excellent warrior," I argued, and Alistair rolled his eyes at me.

"Yeah, that's what I _thought_ you'd say," he teased. "For a _drunk,_ he's an excellent warrior, right? How he lifts his axe is a bit of a mystery…though I suppose the point is that he _does_ lift it. And so long as we can point him in the right direction, he charges too. He has gusto, I'll give him that," Alistair admitted, and I smiled. "Now…Zevran. You can't…trust him, can you? Do you believe his so-called vow?" Alistair asked, and I smirked at him.

"Why? Are you jealous?" I teased, and he rolled his eyes.

"Maybe a little. That doesn't stop the question from being relevant," he replied.

"Yes, I actually do trust him," I said and he seemed surprised.

"Really? Why? That's a lot of trust to put in someone who tried to kill you," Alistair argued, and I shrugged.

"That was _weeks_ ago, dear," I joked. "And there's just…something about him. Have you noticed? It's this…subtle sadness underneath all the jokes and flirting and smiles," I explained, and Alistair nodded slightly.

"Yes…but just because he's got a troubled past doesn't mean we should trust him completely," he replied.

"I'm willing to give him a chance, at least," I murmured, and Alistair sighed, smiling helplessly at me.

"Hmm, you're such a soft touch," he sighed, shaking his head. "But if you're willing to give him a chance, then maybe I should, too. But that doesn't mean I won't keep an eye on him. He's just too shifty," Alistair said softly.

"Oh, I don't think _you_ need to worry about keeping an eye on him," I teased, nodding slightly. Alistair turned and spotted Neria and Zevran sitting nearby – with the way the two were looking at one another, it seemed as if they were in their own little world. Zevran was running his hands over Neria's ears, and her eyes were narrowed in pleasure as she placed her hands on his shoulders. The assassin suddenly leaned forwards and kissed her, and I smirked, returning my attention to Alistair.

"Umm…maybe you're right," he murmured, glancing back at me and blushing slightly.

"Jealous, dear?" I teased, and he leaned forward.

"Not when I have you," he replied, brushing his lips against mine, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. I leaned back against him, closing my eyes and smiling, feeling myself relax in his presence. "What about Sten? The way he looks at me, with those eyes…creepy. And he's so quiet for someone so big," Alistair continued.

"I respect him," I said simply, and Alistair pursed his lips.

"And it looks like he respects you as well. Or at least doesn't look at you with open _disdain_ like he does with everyone else," Alistair observed. "And the more I talk to him, the more reasonable he does seem. His philosophy is so strange, but it doesn't sound at all as vile as the Chantry describes it," he admitted. "…And yet he killed all those people. He doesn't even deny it. Doesn't that bother you?" Alistair asked, and I shrugged.

"Well, he's not the only one. And besides, he seems to regret what he did," I replied.

"Hmm. I'm not so sure that his regret means the same as it would for us. The Qunari sense of honor is…a bit hard to grasp. For me, anyway," Alistair admitted before moving on. "What about Leliana? Is she crazy? Or do you really believe in her vision?"

"I believe that _she_ believes in her vision," I said with a crooked grin, and he smiled slightly, rolling his eyes.

"That's one way to put it. I don't know what to make of her – if you look at her when she doesn't see you, she just looks so…so sad. I almost feel guilty taking her away from her life," he sighed softly.

"It was her choice. She probably would have tried to follow us anyway," I argued.

"Yes, I know. Still, I feel badly for her," he murmured. "Morrigan," he continued, his voice full of disdain. "Do you trust her? Think about it…maybe Flemeth sent her with us for some other reason than she said."

"You _really_ don't like each other, do you?" I asked, and he snorted.

"Well aside from the fact that she's a complete and utter _bitch_ , no…I don't like her at all. Why? Do you?" Alistair asked, and I smirked.

"I like her just fine," I replied.

"Great. I am thrilled beyond words. No, really," he grumbled sarcastically.

"She's not so bad once you get to know her. I mean, she's a little _sharp_ , but…" I shrugged.

"You really _are_ too nice sometimes," Alistair teased, resting his cheek against my head, and I smiled. "I think my curiosity is sated for now," he added.

oOo

"So, my dear," Zevran began, and Neria glanced at up him as she warmed her hands by the fire, "how did you meet our fearless leader?" he asked, nodding towards Adeline, who was sitting a ways off with Alistair, looking out towards the forest as she kept watch. Neria shrugged, pulling her knees up to her chest and glancing back at him, her caramel hair falling loosely over her shoulder, shining like polished gold in the firelight.

"It was a couple of years ago," she recalled. "I had just left my clan, and went to Denerim. It was a bold move – I had never seen so many shemlen in one place in all my life. Even _now_ , I still feel a little overwhelmed," she admitted with a soft chuckle. "Some merchant was hassling me – he was pressuring me to sell him my bow, and when I said no, he threatened to call the guards on me," she scoffed, shaking her head a little.

"And what did you do?" Zevran asked, and the Dalish Elf snorted.

"I told him he could jump into the river, for all I cared," Neria replied, and Zevran chuckled. "Still…I probably would have been in trouble if Tabby and Daveth hadn't shown up," she added. "Tabby said I was her cousin, visiting from out of town. Convinced the merchant to back down – it helped that Daveth was a good deal taller than the man, and looked Chasind, to boot. After that, the two of them helped me out – got me on my feet and set me up with one of the small-time crime-rings. Low-risk business, but I made enough money to live comfortably," she explained.

"If I might ask…why did you leave your clan?" Zevran said softly, and Neria sighed, a distant look in her eyes. She knitted her fingers together and looked into the fire – the fierceness that burned in her gaze was gone, leaving only sadness.

"There was really nothing left for me at that point. You see…I never knew my parents, either," she murmured; Zevran could hear regret and bitterness in her tone. He remained silent, waiting for her to continue. "Both of my parents died the day of my birth," she said softly, closing her eyes for a few moments. "My father was…murdered by humans, I was told, and my mother gravely wounded in the same attack… She lived only long enough to bear me." Neria's eyes were distant as she opened them, staring at the fire.

Flashes of her earliest years returned to her. The warmth of fur around her, the bodies of her siblings as they yipped and barked in the small underground den, their sharp little teeth against her skin as they played. Fen'len, the Elves of the Sabrae clan had called her, when she had been caught in a snare outside of one of their camps – wolf-child.

"Tamlen…he was my closest friend," Neria continued, knowing that her drawn-out silence was only making Zevran more curious. "His family raised me," she murmured. "I…was terrified, I'll admit, when I realized I had feelings for the man I thought was my brother," she chuckled a bit. "My foster mother told me the story once I turned fifteen – I looked like my real mother enough that she recognized me." Neria chewed her lower lip, "so…I told him that I loved him."

"And did he share these feelings?" Zevran spoke, his voice gentle. Neria glanced at him, her blue eyes searching his face for something. She didn't know why she was telling him all of this – he was just so easy to talk to, that she found herself pouring out her heart without even realizing it.

"…yes. He called me ma sa'lath – my one love," she sighed. "I think…he was going to ask me to bond with him, so that we could start a family together," Neria's eyes darkened. "One day, while we were out hunting together, we came upon a strange ruin, deep in the woods," she continued, a distant look on her face, as if she were a thousand miles away. She was silent for so long that only a loud pop from the campfire brought her back. "Sorry," she whispered, and Zevran shook his head.

"No, that is quite alright," he assured her. "If you do not wish to continue…"

"No – I should finish." Neria let out a long sigh, taking a deep breath and running her hands over her eyes, massaging the sockets. "I was getting a bad feeling from the ruins, but Tamlen wanted to investigate – he was always so headstrong," she murmured, her eyes nearly brimming with tears. "I told him that we should come back with our Keeper – the leader of our clan – and more hunters, but he said that he wanted to make sure the ruins were worth a lengthy investigation. He told me that _I_ could go back to the clan to get the Keeper if I wanted to." Neria covered her face with her hands, moving them up across her forehead so that they trailed through her hair.

Zevran was silent, but he could sense where the story was going. "We got into an argument over it, and I stormed off, back to the clan." Her voice hitched in her throat, and she stared down at the fire miserably. "While I returned with the Keeper, there was a sudden earthquake – by the time we reached the ruin, the entire hill it was built into had collapsed, trapping Tamlen inside. I tried to get inside, digging through the rubble to get to him, but strange monsters attacked me and the other hunters, and we had to retreat – the Keeper knew them as darkspawn."

Neria went quiet, and stared at the fire as tears ran down her face. Zevran was unsure of how to comfort her – he did not want to offend her; he knew so little about her. He gently reached out an arm, very gingerly moving around the woman and placing it around her shoulders, ready to back off if she shrugged him away. Instead, Neria huddled closer to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck and weeping softly. Zevran wrapped his arms around the woman and pulled her tightly to him, pressing a gentle kiss into her hair.

"Shh, mi querida. Todo estará bien," he whispered to the sobbing Elf, patting her back gently as she let out her pent-up grief. After a while, Neria straightened, although she remained in Zevran's arms, and she smiled weakly up at him.

"Thank you, Zevran. I…really needed to let that out," Neria sighed, looking at him gratefully. She closed her eyes, breathing a soft sigh as she leaned her head against his shoulder; Zevran patted her back, feeling the girl relax against him as her breathing calmed. He ran a hand lightly through her hair, lingering gently on the tip of her ear.

"May I?" he asked softly, and the light slowly returned to Neria's eyes as she felt him run the tip of his finger over the lower edge of her ear. She looked up at him through her lashes with those predator's eyes, a small smile on her lips.

"Only if you let me do the same, next time," she replied as she relaxed, feeling him place his other hand on the opposite ear. He began very gently rubbing her ears, his fingers moving over the sensitive skin and making her blush with pleasure, her eyes narrowing as her breathing picked up a bit. Zevran chuckled softly, and she smiled a bit, looking up at him.

She watched as he leaned forward, his lips brushing gently against hers, feeling like velvet, and she sighed as he held her; there was just something about him that made her heart grow calm, and she loved the feeling of being near him. It was…more than the heat of lust – it was a soft, gentle warmth that wrapped around her, just as his arms held her now.

oOo

We reached Redcliffe Castle fairly early the next day, and were greeted by Ser Perth at the gates. "The demon has been dealt with, and the Arl is in a stable condition…although he has not yet woken," the head knight reported, and I nodded, thanking him for the information. I talked to some of the servants in the castle, learning that Connor had returned to normal, with little memory of what happened. I was relieved; the poor boy would have enough to deal with in the coming months without remembering what he had done.

"Connor is his old self. He does not seem to remember anything, which is a blessing," Teagan sighed, once he had greeted us down in the main hall. He, Alistair, Wynne and I walked back to Eamon's room; Wynne wanted to inspect the Arl herself, to see if there was anything she – or even the spirit within her – could do for him.

"He will have to go to the Circle, eventually, for proper training," Wynne remarked, and Teagan nodded slightly.

"Yes…although your First Enchanter has allowed him to stay until the war is over, and the Circle of Magi has recovered," Teagan replied. "It's so odd to think of the boy as a mage, of all things," he murmured aside, glancing over at Connor, who was sitting in the corner of the Arl's room, doing a…breathing exercise, it looked like, under the guidance of the Circle mage who had remained to watch him. "Eamon has much to mourn and rebuild, should he recover. But at least he can be thankful that both his son and wife are safe," Teagan added gratefully, and I smiled slightly. Isolde glanced up at our approach as she sat by the Arl's bedside.

"I owe you my deepest thanks. I had nearly…I can scarcely believe Connor is the boy he once was," Isolde added, standing and giving us a nod of thanks. Eamon was lying prone on the bed, his chest rising and falling weakly, his face pale. Alistair looked at him with concern, his shoulders stiffening slightly, and I gently took his fingers in mine, giving his hand a small, reassuring squeeze.

"But our task is not done yet. Whatever the demon did to my brother, it seems to have spared his life…but he remains comatose. We cannot wake him," Teagan continued.

"The Urn! The Urn of Sacred Ashes will save Eamon!" Isolde gasped, almost frantically, and I raised an eyebrow at her.

"But the Urn is a legend; it might never be found," I murmured. "Isn't there some other way to heal him? What about magic?" I suggested, glancing at Wynne.

"I shall see what I can do," the healer offered. Wynne walked over to the bedside, placing a hand lightly on the Arl's head and closing her eyes. I could sense – faintly – a soft, warm feeling pulsating off the woman in gentle waves. _The spirit? Or maybe a strong healing spell?_ I wondered, watching intently. "Hmm…" Wynne murmured, stepping back and crossing her arms with concern. "I can undo the damage that has been done to his body…but I cannot wake the Arl," she said regretfully. "There is no poison left in his system, but he remains comatose – he will either wake on his own…or not at all."

"My husband funded the research of a scholar in Denerim – a Brother Genitivi. He has been studying the inscriptions on Andraste's Birth Rock," Isolde said, glancing between us. "When Eamon fell ill, I sent the knights to speak to Genitivi. I hoped that he had finally discovered the location of the Urn of Sacred Ashes itself. They were unable to locate Genitivi. In desperation, I sent more knights in search of the brother or some clue of the Urn's location," Isolde explained.

"What will you be doing in the meantime?" I asked, glancing up at Teagan.

"I must organize Eamon's knights as they return, draft new soldiers, and prepare the army to fight. I shall hand Redcliffe back to Eamon when he awakens, and in a state where it can be of some use in the coming war. Truly, what other choice do I have?" the Bann sighed, and I bit my lip, looking down at the Arl in silence for a long time before nodding slightly.

"Alright. We'll look for the Urn," I said, and Isolde looked as if she were going to weep tears of joy at my words.

"Thank you. I am grateful for your eagerness to help restore my husband," the woman gasped, dabbing hurriedly at her eyes with a kerchief. "Find Brother Genitivi – the scholar – in Denerim. He has been researching the Urn's location for several years now," the woman explained, calling for a servant to get her some writing materials. "The knights that returned say that they were unable to find Genitivi, but perhaps the Maker will lead you to him," she said, writing down the man's house address on a slip of paper and handing it to me. I nodded, tucking the paper into my pocket.

"I must go to the hall and begin rebuilding. I wish you luck, and may the Maker go with you," Teagan bade us farewell, heading into the hall.

"Feel free to remain in the castle for the duration of your stay. It is the very least I can offer for your help," Isolde offered, and I nodded, thanking her.

oooo

"Now…" I murmured as Alistair, Wynne and I walked down the hall, "I suppose we'll be heading to Denerim. _That'll_ be fun," I snorted.

"You know…" Alistair began, and I glanced up at him, "maybe this isn't the best time to be thinking about this, but I've something to ask you," he said, and I nodded, listening. "Since we're going to Denerim…while we're there I wonder if we might be able to…look someone up," Alistair sounded slightly nervous, and I placed my hand on his arm, nodding slightly.

"Loghain will get what's coming to him, I promise you," I said, and he shook his head slightly – evidently that hadn't been what he had meant.

"No, I…I _know_ that. That's not what I'm talking about," he said, and I glanced up at him, puzzled. "The thing is, I have a sister. A half-sister," he explained, and my eyes widened. _Ah, wait. So that dream in the Fade_ _ **was**_ _based off of reality. He_ _ **does**_ _actually have a sister,_ I concluded. "I told you about my mother, right? She was a servant at Redcliffe Castle, and she had a daughter…only I never knew about her. I don't think she knew about _me_ , either. They kept my birth a secret, after all," Alistair continued. "But after I became a Grey Warden I did some checking and…well, I found out she's still alive. In Denerim," he finished, and I smiled warmly up at him.

"That's wonderful news!" I said, and he smiled back.

"She's the only real family I have left, the only family not also mixed up in the whole royal thing. I've just been thinking that…maybe it's time I went to see her," he murmured, slightly unsure of himself, caught between excitement and a bit of anxiety. "With the Blight coming and everything, I'm not sure if I'll ever get another chance to see her. Maybe I can help her, warn her about the danger, I don't know," he shrugged, and I patted his arm reassuringly.

"If you want to, we could try to look for her," I offered, and he seemed relieved.

"Could we? I'd appreciate that. If something happened to her and I never went to at least _see_ her, I don't know if I could forgive myself," Alistair said. "Her name is Goldanna and I think she remarried, but still lives just outside the Alienage. If we're in the area, then…well, it's worth a look," he sighed.

I found Sten a little while later in the castle's courtyard, motioning for him to come with me as we headed down into the village, walking along the docks until we reached Dwyn's place. Sten waited patiently outside – I didn't want to intimidate the Dwarf _too_ much. "I heard you're a collector of rare weapons?" I asked, once I had been invited in, and Dwyn raised an eyebrow at my question.

"Why would you be interested in that?" Dwyn asked, and I shrugged.

"I'm looking for a Qunari sword, and I heard you bought one recently," I replied, and he snorted, looking me up and down.

"Lass, that sword's as big as you are tall. You couldn't possibly use that thing, even _if_ I was willing to sell it to you," he snorted, and I shook my head.

"Oh, no, _I'm_ not going to use it. You see, that merchant you bought it off stole it from my very large, very strong Qunari friend, just outside," I replied, letting Dwyn interpret my words however he wished.

"Right. It's in my strongbox. Here's the key. Now why don't you leave me alone?" the Dwarf said quickly, handing me the key and pointing to the back room. I thanked him, going into the room and opening the long chest that had been pushed under the bed. He was right – the Qunari blade was as tall as I was, and very heavy. I carried it carefully, not wanting to bang it against the walls, and I left, thanking Dwyn again.

The blade burned almost faint blue in the sunlight, and Sten stared at it, a look of intense longing in his eyes. "Strange," he breathed, taking the sword, "I had almost forgotten it. Completion." He sheathed the blade over his back – he had kept the empty sheath with him the entire time. "Are you sure you are a Grey Warden? I think you must be an ashkaari to find a single lost blade in a country at war," he said, looking at me with uncharacteristic warmth in his eyes.

"What will you do now?" I asked, looking up at the Qunari.

"My sword is in my hand again. I should put it to use," he replied, and a small smile curled the corners of his lips as he looked back at me. "And I could deliver a much more satisfying answer to the arishok's question if the Blight were ended, don't you agree?" he added, and I smiled up at him.

"Absolutely," I answered, and he nodded, satisfied.

"Then lead the way."

oooo

That evening, I felt a bit restless, rolling over in my bed until I sat up. I was loath to leave the warm, comfortable mattress, but a gnawing hunger made my stomach rumble softly. "Ugh, and I ate so much at dinner, too," I complained to myself, rolling my eyes and standing up. I snuck through the castle, heading down to the kitchens and sitting by the hearth, where the embers still smoldered slightly. I stoked the fire, setting a kettle of tea to boil as I sat on a stool nearby, munching on some thin, sweet wafers I had found in one of the cabinets.

"Hungry?" I glanced up as I heard the voice, smiling guiltily at Wynne as she leaned against the kitchen's doorframe, watching me.

"Hm, a little," I admitted, slightly embarrassed. "It's…one of the things about being a Grey Warden. Increased appetite, that is," I explained, and she nodded.

"Yes, I…wondered that, after watching how you and Alistair inhale your food as if you were taking your last meal," she chuckled quietly at the mortified look on my face. She pulled up a stool and sat next to me, watching the crackling fire in silence for a long time before speaking again. "Have you heard much about the Grey Wardens of old?" she asked, and I smiled a bit.

"Only what I've heard in the old tales, really; my mother used to tell me stories when I was little," I replied.

"It was said that watching the Wardens ride in on their white griffons was enough to rouse a weary heart, and put the dance back in the step of an old man. The Grey Wardens were powerful – feared and respected – but they also inspired the common people. I remember a tale that was told to me, many years ago…" Wynne trailed off, glancing at me, and I nodded.

"Go on," I encouraged softly, taking the tea off the flame as the kettle began to sing.

"The Blight had ravaged the land for months, and the armies of the great kings had amassed for one last stand. As the sun burst through the clouds that boiled and churned in the dark sky above, it illuminated a vast seething horde of darkspawn, with the archdemon at its head. And it was then – when courage seemed to fail, and all lost to death and despair – that the Grey Wardens came. They arrived with the beating of wings like mighty war drums, and stood before the armies of men," Wynne described, and I paused as I poured out our tea.

"That's not sound strategy. Why not flank the darkspawn?" I interjected, and she glanced at me with a faint smile.

"That's not the point of the tale," she chided gently, giving me a pointed look, and I grinned at how grandmotherly she sounded. "The Grey Wardens, grim and fearless, marched forth, ever between the men and the encroaching darkspawn. They formed a shield of their own bodies and held that line until the archdemon was dead and the last darkspawn lay trampled in the dirt. And then, demanding neither reward nor recognition for their sacrifice, the Grey Wardens departed. When the clouds finally rolled back and the sun shone full upon the blighted ground, the great kings knew that they had lost no men, and none of their blood had been spilled," she finished.

I rejoined her by the fire, handing her a ceramic mug of tea, and she thanked me. "This story isn't about a specific battle, is it?" I concluded, and she nodded.

"You are observant. This is a tale about no battle the Grey Wardens have fought, and yet about them all," Wynne explained. "They have always defended us from the darkspawn, taking losses so we do not have to. People may have forgotten over the centuries, but nothing has changed. This knowledge has been blessing and burden to Grey Wardens past, and now, it shall be your blessing, and your burden."

"As a Grey Warden, I'll never lead a normal life, will I?" I asked, taking a sip from my tea and making a face as I burned my tongue.

"No, you won't," Wynne replied, and my eyebrows went up at her frankness.

"Wow, you're blunt," I laughed, and she almost rolled her eyes at me.

"Were you expecting an 'Oh, I'm sure you will! You'll have dozens of babies and die happy and old in your bed'. No. You won't. If I had said that, it would have been a lie and I would have been doing you an injustice," Wynne said, and I nodded slightly, smiling at her reasoning. "You wonder sometimes, don't you? If your life would be better if you weren't who you are," she continued, and I snorted softly, shaking my head.

"No. It could have been worse, actually, if I never met Duncan. Probably significantly shorter, too," I remarked, trying not to think about the wedding.

"When I was a young woman in the tower, I came to the realization that the Circle would be my life, and I would know no other. Family, love, a simple life – these were things that others took for granted, that I would never have," Wynne began, taking a delicate sip of her tea.

"Grass is greener," I replied.

"It made me very moody. All I could think of was being trapped in that tower, with no way out and no end in sight. I started hating my life, and myself, and one night I found myself in the tower's chapel. I was seeking refuge, maybe answers…" she sighed at the memory, and I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to smirk.

"It's hard to imagine you as a moody youth," I remarked, and she smiled, seeing the amused look in my eyes.

"Well, I was. Dreadfully morose. _Surly_ ," she chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, the chapel… I must have looked tearful, or made some noise, because the revered mother came out and decided to speak to me. And because I had no one else to talk to, I talked to her. I must have said many silly things…but she told me that the Maker puts us all on our paths for a reason, and fighting our intended course is what causes so much anguish," Wynne recalled.

"Ah, can't get enough of that religious claptrap," I teased, and she actually _did_ roll her eyes at me this time.

" _I_ thought the old biddy was full of rubbish," she scoffed, and I chuckled a bit. "I was fifteen, maybe sixteen, and I knew _everything_. So I left. But I always found my way back to that chapel, and as the years passed, I began to see the truth of her words. We were supposed to be polar opposites – mage and priest – but we weren't. There was much about us that was the same," she continued, and I nodded, glancing into the fire.

"I suppose priests have to give up a lot too," I murmured.

"The revered mother had lived in the Chantry all her life, as I had been in the tower for all of mine," Wynne murmured. "She taught me that you can find your family in the people around you, that you can love your work and find fulfillment in duty. And there is joy even in self-sacrifice; if you put others before yourself, then their well-being is yours, and their happiness is your happiness," she added, and I grinned at the old woman.

"That doesn't sound healthy," I said, only half-joking, and she raised an eyebrow at me.

"No? Then why do you continue to do exactly that?" she countered, and I smirked.

"I'm a masochist," I replied glibly, and she smiled slightly. "I have two priorities, Wynne," I continued, "defeat the archdemon, and make sure everyone in our little group stays alive. Really, my own health means very little, so long as everyone's safe," I admitted with a sigh, and Wynne frowned at my words.

"Adeline, you shouldn't throw yourself into danger for our sakes. We are capable of protecting ourselves," she argued, and I shrugged.

"It's not that I don't _know_ that, Wynne. I…just couldn't live with myself if anyone was hurt on my watch. Not again…" I trailed off, glancing back at the fire as I thought about what happened.

"…would you like to speak about it?" the old woman asked gently, and I glanced at her with a weak smile, shaking my head.

"Maybe one day, Wynne, maybe one day," I sighed, standing as I finished my tea. "It was nice having a chat with you," I added, bidding her goodnight. "Ah, do you need help getting up the stairs?" I asked, slightly teasing, and she scoffed, although she was still smiling.

"Oh get to bed before I lay at you with my staff. Help me up the stairs, good heavens!" she chuckled, shaking her head as I ducked out of the doorway with a crooked grin on my face.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	33. Chapter 33: Listen to Your Heart

Chapter 33

Listen to Your Heart

Author's note: [NSFW – smut warning: towards the end of the chapter]

Alright, so…I haven't really written this sort of thing before. It's in one of the last sections of the chapter, partitioned off – you can skip that bit if you don't like that sort of thing.

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

We set out for Denerim the next day, heading along the West Road towards the capital; it would take us a couple of weeks, weather permitting. Jowan hadn't dared leave his room back at the castle except at mealtimes – I had to admit, Arlessa Isolde had one hell of a death-glare. He seemed relieved once we were back on the road, and began sharing some of his experiments on darkspawn blood with Wynne and Morrigan; he thought that perhaps with their combined knowledge, they might find some clue as to how the taint worked. When we set up camps in the evenings, I asked Katja to teach me more about traps and grenades – she really was a genius when it came to making different contraptions, and was eager to take me on as a student.

Whenever I thought of returning to Denerim, and how I would be received at the Alienage, I felt a knot of anxiety tighten in my chest, making my stomach roll. I was excited at the prospect of seeing my family again…but I was also a little afraid. What if…what if they _did_ blame me for what happened? Or what if because of my escape, the guards had punished the Elves back in the Alienage, to make an example of them?

"You okay boss?" Oghren asked one evening, and I flinched. I had been sitting by the fire, probably staring at it blankly, and Oghren was watching me quietly; I must have been making a strange face or something for him to have asked me if I was alright.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine," I muttered, glancing away awkwardly. He grunted slightly, respecting my privacy as he took a draught from his hip-flask, letting out a belch. "So can you teach others to fight like you do?" I asked after a while, and the Dwarf looked up at me, smiling slightly.

"You want to be a berserker? Ha! Thought I'd never see the day," he chuckled, grinning and shaking his head. "You're a monster on the field already, Warden, but your style doesn't give itself to mad rage. Too much thinking, too much whatchacall… _finesse_ ," Oghren continued. "I saw a bit of it in you – back in the Deep Roads – but while it looked like anger at first, you sort of…slipped into it and went icy-calm. I mean, you tore the head off a darkspawn with your bare sodding hands, but your expression was completely blank. Kinda creepy, really," he snorted, and I made a face.

"…fair enough," I murmured. "But I'm still curious; I met some Ash Warriors once, who told me about the battle-rage, but that was about it. Can you tell me anything more?" I prodded, and Oghren rolled his eyes at me.

"What the sod is there to know? You get mad, you fly into battle, and things die. It's pretty simple," he grunted. "The _hard_ part is getting in touch with your rage. We all learn to hold that back. It's why we don't kill every duster who looks at us sideways," he added. "You need to shut that off. For some people, being in battle is enough. But others have to think about something. Violence, monsters, nobles, your wife, whatever," he explained.

"Your wife?" I asked curiously, and he grinned.

"Aye. _Especially_ my wife," he replied.

"So just thinking about it works?" I continued, and he shrugged slightly.

"For most berserkers, it does. Several years ago, I worked with a berserker on one expedition who just couldn't work himself up. We had to kick him in the stones before he could get going," Oghren chuckled at the memory, and I made a face.

"Ouch," I murmured.

"So what _was_ that, anyway?" Oghren asked, and I raised an eyebrow. "Back in the Deep Roads, I mean," he elaborated, and I sighed.

"Honestly…I'm not too sure myself. It's only ever happened once before – that I can remember – and that was back in the Circle tower…" I murmured, curling my knees up to my chin and looking into the fire, slightly worried. "I guess it _is_ sort of like your battle-rage – I got angry, and things died – but…I don't know. There was a mage – Uldred – who was possessed by a demon," I explained, and Oghren listened in silence, occasionally taking a sip from his flask. "He…he _did_ something to me…" my eyes grew distant at the memory, and I shivered, my shoulders tense. "All I remember was an intense pain, as if my heart was going to explode…and then…nothing," I said, placing a hand on my forehead. "I woke up lying in a pool of blood, surrounded by body parts… I don't know if _I_ did it, or something…but…" I trailed off, biting my lip and glancing at Oghren, who seemed to be mulling my words over.

"Ah, you don't need to talk about it, boss," he said sympathetically, seeing my distraught look, and I smiled weakly.

"Thank you. I think I'm…going to turn in early," I sighed, standing and bidding him goodnight.

oOo

Wynne had been sitting nearby, reading a book, "The Rose of Orlais", that she had brought with her from the tower. Or rather, she had been pretending to read – she had been listening carefully to Adeline as she spoke to Oghren. _She seems quite comfortable speaking to him,_ the old woman thought, watching out of the corner of her eye as the young Elf woman stood, bidding everyone goodnight and returning to her tent, her mabari hound on her heels.

What Adeline had said bothered Wynne…but she could understand the girl's thought process. _What Uldred tried to do to her…it was different than the mages,_ she thought, biting her lip as she remembered the sensation. The raw Fade energy in the Harrowing Chamber had been so thick that it had made the hair on her neck stand up, and she could tell that Alistair had been very uncomfortable as well. _That makes sense – he was trained as a Templar, and should be able to sense magic, even when it isn't quite so strong._

No, what bothered her was that _Adeline_ looked like she could sense it as well. _The girl isn't a mage…or at least Uldred didn't seem to think so,_ she recalled, furrowing her brow. _He said something about…being one of them? And he called her 'little sister'. How bizarre…_ Wynne was confused now; she had always been very good at sensing magical ability in others. Everyone had a tiny trace of mana in them, whether they were a mage or not – a mage's mana pool was just larger, and much more active.

When she tried to sense the mana in Adeline, however, she had felt a strange…'slippery' sensation, for lack of a better word. She hadn't been able to focus on the girl's energy – it was as if she were trying to pick up an oil-covered marble while wearing a pair of silk gloves. It truly was the strangest thing she had ever experienced. _Perhaps the spirit may understand?_ Wynne wondered, thinking of her guardian. She believed that it was a spirit of Faith – it had watched and protected her from a very young age, and had kept her from dying when she had rescued her apprentice from a demon.

The old woman closed her eyes, pulling her consciousness inward as she tried to communicate with the spirit. They did not speak with words, but more sensations – images and sounds and emotions. The spirit understood her confusion, and was curious about the strange Elf as well. A slow answer crept into Wynne's mind as the spirit began to understand the situation – it could 'see' past the slipperiness that blocked out Adeline's mana. The woman's eyes snapped open, and she stared at the Warden's tent, more confused than ever. The spirit had given her an answer…but now she began to regret it.

Adeline, the spirit had informed her, was a demon.

oOo

I fell to my knees, swearing and clutching the crossbow bolt that stuck out of my calf, blood dripping into my boot and soaking my sock. "Adeline!" Leliana gasped, and I pointed up towards a tall ridge across a narrow canyon, indicating the crossbowman who had shot me.

"I'm fine! Just kill the archers!" I cried, and Leliana nodded, dashing off to the side and firing at the distant archers with Katja at her elbow as more appeared from their hiding places.

It had been a week since we started our journey to Denerim. We had skirted around Lothering, the charred remains of the buildings making my heart tighten in my chest as I prayed that all of the refugees had gotten away before the darkspawn attack. Now, we were cutting through a patch of hilly woodlands, just at the edge of the Brecilian, so that we wouldn't have to travel for too long on the West Road – thankfully, we had heard news from some merchants heading the opposite direction that a contingent of Loghain's troops were coming our way, and we had had enough time to get out of sight of the main road.

However, once we had gotten into a narrow passage in the woods – our cart just barely managed to fit along the narrow ledge – we had been hit by an ambush. They had kept downwind – Olan hadn't picked up their scent, like he usually did with bandits that tried to ambush us. Although…these weren't run-of-the-mill bandits, I supposed; these men were professionals, with finely-made weapons and armor – assassins, I guessed, probably more of Loghain's.

I knelt, muttering curses at my own stupidity for falling for the oldest trick in the book as Morrigan, Leliana, Wynne, and Katja took down the men from a distance, using arrows and magic. "We've captured one," Zevran informed me from the top of the ridge, watching as Alistair helped me to my feet and set me onto the wagon seat.

"Ugh, good," I called back. "Of all the sodding places to get shot…" I muttered through gritted teeth, bracing my leg against the cart and pulling the bolt out with a high-pitched yelp of pain. I quickly yanked off the boot, not wanting to get more blood inside, and I watched as Sten walked over, dumping the captured man in front of our wagon. "Neria, handle him," I said, and the girl sat down on the man's chest as I tossed her my knife.

"Are you alright?" Alistair asked, and I shrugged as Wynne came over, silently treating my wound. She had been acting bit strange the past few days – she hadn't spoken much to me since we had started towards Denerim, and I wondered why.

"Yeah. I'm more worried about my _boot_ than my leg," I chuckled, feeling the effects of Wynne's healing magic immediately. "Ugh, it's going to take _forever_ to clean the blood out," I complained, looking at the hole the crossbow bolt had made in the leather.

"We can get you new boots in Denerim," Alistair offered, leaning against the side of the wagon.

"Ah, no. Not like these," I replied. "They're my mother's old boots," I explained, and he nodded. "I know a cobbler who can fix them up, though," I sighed, placing the boot in the wagon next to me and glancing down at the captured man as he came-to.

"Here, I'll take care of it," Jowan offered, indicating the boot, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Ah!" I realized what he was talking about, and he took the boot, concentrating for a few moments on the material before the blood seemed to come to life, seeping out of the leather without leaving a trace. "Thank you, Jowan. Now I just need to get that hole patched up," I said, thanking the man, and he smiled.

"I never imagined blood magic being used for such a…mundane task," Morrigan remarked, and I rolled my eyes, smirking at the woman.

I crossed my legs, folding my hands on my lap as I looked down at the captured assassin – he had come around, keeping stock-still as he found himself pinned under Neria. "Mind telling me who you are?" I asked, and the man stared up at the Elf warrior with wide eyes, feeling the edge of the knife as she pressed it against his throat.

"He is no common bandit; none of them were. Their weapons and armor are of fine make, and they are well-trained," Leliana observed, and I nodded.

"Yes. I assumed they were assassins – maybe more of Loghain's," I said, and the man stared at me with bulging eyes.

"You know what I am talking about, don't you? Who are you?" Leliana asked, directing the question towards the man.

"Someone who regrets taking you on. Was told it would be an easy job. Kill the little red-haired girl, deal with the others as we pleased," he coughed, and I rolled my eyes.

"There are a couple of red-heads among us, if you hadn't noticed," I replied, indicating Katja and Leliana besides myself, and he nodded towards Leliana.

"That one," he said, and her eyes widened.

"You came to kill _me?_ " she asked, incredulous.

"Do you think this has to do with Orlais?" I murmured, and Leliana crossed her arms, biting her lip and nodding, her blue eyes troubled.

"It could. You may be right," she said, looking back at the frightened assassin. "Who sent you? Why am I wanted dead?" she demanded, her tone unusually sharp. _I guess…she's leading this interrogation now,_ I thought, trying not to chuckle – the bard was coming out, and the Chantry Sister had stepped back.

"It don't pay to ask why someone wants someone else dead. I just need to know what to do, and where to get my money," he replied, giving a short, harsh bark of laughter. "Ha, money! I'll be lucky to get away with my life, it seems. Maybe we could work something out? You'll like the idea," he offered, and I rolled my eyes.

"Are all assassins so glib?" I asked, directing the question towards Zevran, who chuckled.

"Only in the presence of deadly beauties, such as yourself," he replied.

"Speak quickly," Leliana hissed, narrowing her eyes at the man.

"I've no real quarrel with you. Wasn't me that wanted you dead, but I know how you can find the one who does," he answered.

"Fine. Name and location," I ordered, and he shook his head, careful not to press his throat too tightly against the edge of the blade as Neria stared him down.

"Never found out the name. Got the feeling the man I spoke to was doing someone else's bidding too. I have some directions written down on how to get to the house, though. It's in Denerim. Here…it's the best I can do," he said, and I motioned for Neria to let him go.

"Katja," I murmured, and she nodded, aiming at his head with her crossbow, should he try anything. Neria kept her blade at the ready as the assassin sat up and reached into his pocket. He handed Leliana a small slip of paper, and she read it carefully, nodding and narrowing her eyes.

"Thank you. Now leave. I never want to see you again," she said, and the man gave a grateful bow as I motioned with a hand for the others to back down.

"Don't worry. I'll not trouble you no more," he called, running off. We watched him go, and Leliana let out a painful sigh.

"It's Marjolaine…it has to be," she breathed, looking at me sadly.

"Why now?" I asked as she sat next to me. The others clambered into the back of the wagon or stood behind it – there wasn't much room to walk beside it – and Dancia began picking her way carefully through the narrow pass once more.

"Maybe someone saw me…maybe she's finally found me and wants to finish what she started," Leliana theorized, and I patted her leg comfortingly, glancing at her.

"I promised that I would protect you, and I never go back on my word, Leliana. What do _you_ want to do?" I asked, and she set her jaw, a spark of anger and determination in her eyes.

"She needs to answer for what she's done to me. We are going to Denerim anyway; I would like to seek her out," she stated, and I nodded.

"As you wish," I replied.

oooo

"So is it very strange for you, my friend, living in the world of the tall?" I glanced over my shoulder as I listened to Zevran speaking to Oghren. We had cut through the woods two days ago, and it would be another three days before we got to Denerim. Thankfully, there hadn't been any more attempts on our lives since then – things had gone rather smoothly. Oghren glowered up at Zevran as the Elf spoke, snorting with contempt.

"Here I thought I was living in the world of the nosy and the _stupid_ ," he remarked, taking a draught from his flask. _That thing_ _ **has**_ _to be enchanted. I've yet to see him refill it once,_ I thought, eyeing the silver hip-flask, decorated with lettering in Dwarvish.

"It just occurred to me. Chairs are too high. Tables are out of reach. Using the toilet facilities alone must be a lesson in humility," Zevran continued unperturbed, and I bit back a snicker as I saw Oghren scowl.

"I'm not bloody two feet _tall_ , you swishy _nug-licker!_ " Oghren growled, outraged, and Zevran smirked as he got under the Dwarf's skin.

"And then the light! After all that gloom of Orzammar and the Deep Roads, it's a wonder you don't wander about squinting in pain," he added, and Oghren let out a breath, seeming to think this one over a bit.

"It is bright, I'll give you that," he admitted grudgingly.

"And…oh! Not to have a roof over your head! You must constantly fear that you'll fall up into that vast, endlessly open sky!" Zevran gasped, and Oghren glanced up at the sky, looking suddenly ill and returning his gaze squarely to the ground.

"Uh…" he muttered, covering his mouth and letting out a soft belch…or maybe biting back vomit.

"One day you live within the surety of a mountain, and then, _gone!_ Nothing but vacuum, nothing to stop you from being _sucked_ _up_ into the _void_ , nothing to–"

" _Stop!_ One more word and I chop you down where you stand!" Oghren threatened, glowering at the Elf.

"You are a brave, brave little soldier, my friend," he smirked, patting Oghren reassuringly on the back.

"Oh that does it!" the Dwarf yelled, hand flying to his axe, and Zevran moved quickly out of range, hopping into the cart and stepping lightly through it until he slid down into the seat next to me, giving me a roguish wink as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I supposed that meant he was off-limits.

"Careful, he might cut you down if you tease him too much," I joked, watching as Oghren calmed down, muttering 'not sodding worth it' under his breath.

oooo

In camp that night, as I relaxed by the fire, I glanced over towards Alistair; he was standing a little ways off, practicing his sword and shield technique. I watched him in silence, admiring how the light from the fire cast his hair in gold, and how it played off of his skin, turning it bronze. As he moved about, I could see the calculation in his eyes, measuring every step carefully, sizing up his imagined opponent. I felt my heartbeat pick up as I watched him, his muscles rippling with each movement, and I blushed as I realized how intently I was staring at him, heat going through me. I tore my eyes from him and glanced down at the fire, hoping no one could see my red face.

"You're quite taken with each other, aren't you?" Wynne remarked, and I jumped, glancing over as she sat down nearby, joining me at the fire. She smiled slightly at my flustered expression, and my blush deepened with my embarrassment.

"…is this about Alistair and me?" I asked weakly, stating the obvious as I tried to calm myself down.

"It's hard not to notice the doe-eyed looks he gives you, especially when he thinks no one's watching," Wynne chuckled. "It's almost too sweet for my tastes, and I'm an old lady who should be making lace hearts and fuzzy blankets with animal motifs," she remarked, and I smiled up at her as my heartbeat returned to normal.

"You're not the average old lady," I argued, and she chuckled softly.

"No, I won't be making socks with pom-poms for you anytime soon, but that's hardly my point," she said, her tone growing serious. "I've noticed your blossoming relationship, and I wanted to ask you where you thought it was going," she continued, and I stopped smiling, wondering what she was getting at, and not liking the tone she was using with me. "Alistair is a fine lad, skilled in battle, but quite inexperienced when it comes to affairs of the heart. I would hate to see him get hurt," she said, and I looked at her in silence.

"Are you…saying I might hurt Alistair?" I asked after a while, and the old woman seemed to see the slightly wary look in my eyes.

"Not intentionally, no. But there is great potential for tragedy here, for one or both of you. You are both Grey Wardens, and he is the son of a king. You have responsibilities which supersede your personal desires," Wynne replied.

"Alistair doesn't want to be king," I said the first thing that came to my head, not really thinking – I was trying to keep my temper at bay as I felt a slow anger starting to rise up in my chest. _Wynne's only concerned about us,_ I argued with myself, wanting to stay calm. _But this really isn't her business,_ I countered.

"That may be true, but he is still a Grey Warden," Wynne remarked. "Love is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish. You may be forced to make a choice between saving your love and saving everyone else, and then what would you do?" she argued, and I felt my eyes narrow slightly at her words.

"You're making things sound more dire than they are," I said, my tone guarded, and Wynne sighed at my stubbornness.

"Nothing is certain, not in these times," she warned. "You cannot take anything for granted. I want you to be aware of this," Wynne urged, and now I felt the anger pushing through the cracks, my eyebrows lowering as I looked at her.

"Well what am I supposed to do, tell Alistair to go away?" I asked, my voice rising a bit, and I sensed Leliana glance over curiously, hearing my anger.

"You may have to, to save one or both of you unnecessary anguish later on," Wynne replied coolly, and I felt the anger drain from me at her words. She was right. Even if Alistair didn't want to be, he was probably going to be king one day. And what was I? A commoner, and an Elf. I had always tried to keep these thoughts at the fringes of my mind, but now that Wynne had brought them to the fore… I really didn't know what I was going to do.

"I…I don't know. I'll…consider it, at least…" I sighed, glancing down at the fire.

"I am just trying to minimize the suffering that may come to either of you. I have given my advice. Do with it what you will," Wynne said, trying to be gentle. I stood, nodding slightly as I returned to my tent for the eve, thanking her for the advice.

oOo

Leliana watched as Adeline stood, stalking back to her tent with stiff shoulders. _Something's wrong,_ she sensed, standing slowly and walking over to Wynne. The old woman looked concerned, watching the fire with her hands folded in her lap, her eyes weary. "What was _that_ about?" Leliana asked curiously, and Wynne glanced at her.

"That is between Adeline and myself," the old woman said gently, though she had a hint of chiding in her tone.

"Oh you know how we gossip," Leliana joked, sitting down next to the mage. "And I'm wondering how _you_ of all people made her mad. I've only seen Sten ever get a rise out of her, and secretly, I think he's just teasing," Leliana asked, lowering her voice.

"Doesn't their relationship concern you?" Wynne questioned, and Leliana raised an eyebrow.

"What, Adeline and Alistair? Not at all! Aren't they sweet?" Leliana giggled, and Wynne frowned slightly.

"They both have duties, a responsibility to–"

"To end the Blight. Yes," Leliana interrupted, finishing for her.

"Then can you not see the danger?" Wynne prodded, and Leliana rolled her eyes.

"This is a _good_ thing, Wynne. It takes their minds off of the constant battles and destruction. And the bounty hunters and assassins after their lives. And did I mention Teyrn Loghain, the man who has Denerim under his thumb? Oh, and what about…"

"Alright. I see your point," Wynne sighed.

"They are happy together – they've found one another in all of this chaos and darkness, and they endure," Leliana said. "You can see it, some nights, can't you? How Adeline starts to doubt herself? She would have lost her mind long ago, if not for Alistair's support. If not for _all_ of our support – two people cannot face the Blight alone, Wynne," Leliana argued softly, and Wynne looked at her thoughtfully for a long time, nodding slightly.

"Thank you Leliana. I suppose I have become…rather cynical as of late," Wynne apologized, and Leliana giggled.

"You just want what's best for us. I'm sure Adeline can see that as well," Leliana said, bidding Wynne goodnight as the bard took the next watch.

oooo

Zevran sat in the branches of a tree, watching Neria as she disrobed and stepped into the water. She had found a small, secluded pond in a clearing near camp – she hadn't been this close to the Brecilian in years, and had always loved to bathe in the cool waters of the forest. _This will have to do,_ she thought as she stood in the chest-high water.

Zevran had seen the long tendrils of tattoos that covered the Dalish woman's body – intricate swirling patterns ran over her back, shoulders and legs, and while he vaguely recognized some of the markings as written Elvish, he found that the arcs and curves were shaped overall like the head of a great, dark-eyed wolf. The assassin wasn't very familiar with the Dalish pantheon, but he did recall hearing the story of Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf, who was said to be a trickster god…and not very sympathetic to the Dalish. Or any mortals, really.

"You can quit sneaking about Zevran; I know you're watching," Neria called teasingly, and Zevran dropped down from the tree, landing lightly and walking out into the open.

"Oh? And you let me get this far?" the assassin remarked, pleasantly surprised. Neria looked back at him, her long, honey-brown hair floating gently on the water, her blue eyes like glowing lyrium veins in the starlight. Zevran felt the odd tightness in his heart return as she smiled at him – by the Maker, how she looked when she smiled at him…

There was just something about her that made him feel lightheaded. Maybe it was because she was powerful and dangerous, with those beautiful, sharp eyes, or because she was sweet, and witty, and coquettish…or maybe because she had felt the bitter claws of loss, and had managed to keep her cheer despite it all.

"Well…" Neria began, an entirely different tone entering her voice – a tone which he liked very much – her eyes flashing. Zevran suddenly felt like he was being hunted again, mesmerized by those hypnotic eyes, and a small, barely perceivable shiver ran down his back. "I thought I might get lonely out here," she added, batting her eyelashes at him. Zevran smirked, crossing his arms and leaning against a tree.

"Saucy little minx, aren't you?" he teased, and Neria smiled slightly, placing a finger coquettishly on her lower lip.

"Did I mention that the water's freezing, and that I could catch my death of cold?" she asked sweetly.

"Oh? As a gentleman, I cannot refuse a maiden's cry for help," the Elf replied, slipping off his clothes and walking into the water. He slid his hands over Neria's skin as she stepped into his embrace, and she placed her fingers on his shoulders, looking deep into his eyes as she traced out the tattoo across his cheek. She pressed herself against him, feeling his heart beating gently against hers, his body warm in the cool water.

"So, my dashing assassin, what are you to do with me, now that you have me?" Neria whispered, and Zevran pulled her closer to him, his hands moving down her back as his fingers followed the patterns of her tattoos.

"Hmm…I'm sure I will think of something," Zevran replied, kissing her. It wasn't a forceful, heated kiss, as many had been before with other women. It was slow and soft, almost as gentle as their first, and Neria let out a quiet sigh, pressing herself against him as their kisses deepened, and became more passionate as their arms tightened around each other.

oOo

I woke up in the middle of the night, sitting upright and feeling the shriek catch in my throat. I covered my mouth quickly, gasping for breath as I broke into a cold sweat. I shut my eyes tightly and put my hands over my face, sobbing weakly as I shook like a leaf. This time, the dream hadn't been about the archdemon…but about the wedding. It must have been because we were going to Denerim, and I had begun thinking of the Alienage, and of my family more frequently in recent days – it also didn't help that the memory of the Sloth demon's second trap was still in my head.

In the nightmare, I had been running down an endless hallway, screaming and trying to catch up to Nelaros as he battled Vaughan – I had been forced to watch as my betrothed fell with the sword in his stomach over and over again, the scene replaying endlessly. And Vaughan had laughed at me, saying that there was nothing I could do to stop him, and that my family would be next, and then the entire Alienage. I shuddered at the memory, feeling sick as sweat beaded over my skin.

"…Adeline?" a gentle voice called, and I glanced up, seeing Leliana peeking into the tent.

"P-please…I d-don't want you t-to see me like this…" I sniffed weakly, and she let out a small sigh, crawling into the tent and sitting next to me.

"Did you have a nightmare?" she asked softly, and I wiped the tears from my eyes, nodding slightly. She slid over to me, wrapping an arm comfortingly around my shoulder and hugging me, leaning her head against mine. "Would you like to talk?"

"I…okay…" I whispered, sniffing and taking a few breaths, collecting myself. "Hah… I'm so pathetic…probably woke up half the camp again…" I sighed, and she shook her head.

"Not at all. The archdemon is terrifying, and to have regular nightmares…"

"It…wasn't about the archdemon," I admitted softly. "You remember why I left Denerim, right? You heard me tell Wynne about it?" I asked her, and Leliana nodded. "I…never gave much detail, though," I sighed. I needed to tell someone, or it would eat away at me until I went mad. "I killed Vaughan Kendells, the Arl of Denerim's son. He…raped my cousin, and killed my…" I trailed off, taking a deep breath, "killed my betrothed."

She was silent for a few moments, and I felt her arms wrap more tightly around me, trying to comfort me. "That's awful, Adeline…" she murmured. "I'm sorry." I sighed, leaning against her and closing my eyes, hugging her tightly.

"I should have done something…" I whispered, and I felt her fingers tighten on my shoulders. "I should have stopped him. I could have offered myself…" Leliana grabbed my shoulders and held me at arm's length, looking at me sternly.

"No, Adeline," she said, her tone firm. "You should never wish that upon yourself." I looked down as tears pooled in my eyes, and I sniffed as my fingers trembled.

"Why am I so weak?" I asked. "I try to protect everyone, but I just end up hurting them, or pushing them away…"

Her eyes softened, and Leliana placed a gentle hand on my cheek. "Adeline," she said softly, "you are not weak." I blinked a few times, and I felt her wipe at my tears. "There are just some things that cannot be done," she murmured, holding my face in her hands. I looked down at the ground, and Leliana leaned forward, pressing her forehead against mine. "Adeline, you're tired, and mentally strained – I'm impressed that you've managed to keep such composure all this time without breaking," she added encouragingly, and I smiled weakly.

"…thank you, Leliana," I breathed, sniffing a bit as I calmed down.

"You can always talk to me, Adeline – that is what friends are for, no?" Leliana asked, giving my shoulders a gently squeeze. I rested my head against her shoulder, letting out a long sigh.

"I've…never really told anyone about…why I left Denerim. Not entirely," I began softly, and I placed my hand in hers, taking her fingers. "If I tell you, will you promise to keep it from the others? I'm…not quite ready to tell everyone," I murmured, and Leliana nodded.

"I promise," she replied.

"It's tradition in the Alienage to have arranged marriages – until you get married, you're considered a child. I only met him, Nelaros, the day of the wedding…but he gave his life to save me from Vaughan," I explained. "I…killed Vaughn and fled Denerim." I closed my eyes, taking in a shaky breath as I recalled my dream. "In…in the nightmare, I saw him…Nelaros…fighting, and dying… I tried to reach him, but the hallway was endless…" I stared at the ground, my voice catching in my throat.

"It's alright…" Leliana murmured gently, rubbing my back. I calmed myself down, nodding to her in thanks. "Feeling better?" she asked, and I smiled weakly.

"Yes. I mean, some Antivan brandy would be nice, too, but…" I chuckled softly, and Leliana smiled.

"I'll always be here, Adeline, if you need to talk" she promised, and I thanked her.

oOo

She brushed her lips across his cheek until she reached his ear, nibbling teasingly at the lobe, and Zevran let out a soft sigh as her fingertips brushed over his muscled chest, following the lines of old scars and curved tattoos. He ran his own hands lower down her back until he reached her hindquarters, and she gasped into his mouth as he gripped her. Her legs tightened around him as they lay in the grass, and Zevran went over every inch of her body, feeling with his hands, his lips, his tongue.

Neria started a soft keening as the assassin's lips brushed her inner thigh, and he paused for a moment, wondering if she wanted him to stop. He glanced at her face as he kissed closer to her center, and she flushed with excitement, her eyes narrowed with desire as a tremor went down her back. Zevran's lips brushed her folds, and she gripped at the grass as he explored her center. Her back arched and she gasped, and Zevran placed his arms around her legs, kissing up their lengths as she quivered gently with pleasure.

He began kissing over her again, traveling up her navel and lingering over her breasts, and she began to keen again as he nuzzled her throat. Neria couldn't take it any more – the world was a wash of red, and the word – _mate_ – sounded through her mind, blotting out her other senses. She grabbed Zevran's hips between her knees, giving a heave and rolling the startled assassin on his back. He stared up at her with surprise for a moment before grinning – those hunter's eyes were flashing, and she looked like she wanted to eat him alive.

She sat on his hips, and he shivered as she took his length, guiding it to her as he entered her. Neria closed her eyes as she took him into her, feeling the tension building in her center as she began rocking back and forth on him, letting out a groan as Zevran continued to run his hands over her. The woman's eyes flashed – she _needed_ him, and she needed him _now_.

oOo

The night wasn't very dark – the moon was bright, and the stars speckled across the sky. I paused in my pacing to look up at them, picking out the familiar constellations through the breaks in the trees. I let out a long sigh, scratching the back of my head – I was utterly lost. I shook my head and continued to pace silently about the clearing, thinking of what I was going to say.

"How do I even start?" I murmured to myself. I was…going to go through with it. I was bracing myself, trying to counter my thoughts as I tried to argue myself out of it. I wasn't…prepared for this sort of relationship – I was naïve to think that it would all work out in the end. _Maybe I'm being selfish,_ I thought as I looked down at the grass, the soft stalks cool beneath my bare feet. _I've never been with anyone before, and neither has Alistair, as far as I know. This is really…a disaster waiting to happen. Wynne was right – I need to stop this before we're in too deep._

The nightmare had clinched it for me – I didn't know what I would do if Alistair died trying to protect me; just thinking of it made my heart seize up with anxiety. "Alistair…we need to talk," I began, my voice coming out strained. I cleared my throat, running my hands through my hair. "You and me…w-we just…this can't…"

 _But what if this makes it worse?_ I thought as I trailed off. _What if I hurt him more by pushing him away? It's not like either one of us can_ _ **leave**_ _. We'll be seeing each other every day until the end of the Blight._ "…A-Alistair…we…" I murmured as I tried to start again, my voice getting shakier as I stood near a tree, bracing myself against it. I shut my eyes, hitting my forehead against the tree in a slow, rhythmic beat, stopping as I heard something.

I glanced over my shoulder as I heard soft footsteps approaching, and I saw Alistair walk into the clearing. "Taking a walk?" he asked softly, indicating the ground around the clearing – I had been pacing so much that it had actually left small trails through the grass. "And I'd suggest using an axe for that," he added, indicating the tree. I looked at the ground, taking a long breath before returning my attention to Alistair.

"Alistair, we…"

"…need to talk?" he finished for me, and I glanced away. He walked up to where I was standing, leaning with my back against the tree, and he looked at me carefully. "What's wrong? Was it a nightmare? I saw Leliana go into your tent and heard you crying," he murmured softly, his eyes sympathetic.

 _Maker, why do you have to make this so hard?_ I thought, feeling my eyes prickle with moisture. "Alistair…" I began taking a deep breath and looking up at him, "where do you see this going between us?" I asked. His eyes widened for a moment with surprise at the question.

"Wow. You don't hold back on the hard questions, huh?" he remarked, and I bit my lip. "I…don't know where this is going," he admitted softly, putting a hand on the back of his neck and scratching his hair. "We have the Blight to think of, first, don't we? Everything else just seems so…distant," he added, and I looked up at him sadly.

"I don't know that there _is_ a future for us, actually…" I murmured. "I'm an Elf, and a commoner. Lower than that, even," I said, cutting him off before he could say anything. "And you're a prince, and maybe you'll be king someday. Even if you try to fight it, you might be forced to take the throne, if only to stop Loghain," I continued, my voice just above a whisper.

Alistair was silent for a long time, looking at me as I refused to meet his eyes. "Adeline," he began gently, and I closed my eyes. "Adeline," he repeated, his tone a little more firm. I looked up at him, and he placed a hand gently on my cheek. "Did Wynne put you up to this?" he asked softly, and I shook my head, unable to look him in the eye. "You're a bad liar, my dear," he murmured, leaning forward.

He kissed me gently, pressing me against the tree, and I could feel the tenderness in his touch as he held me. He understood my concerns, but was brushing them aside as he wrapped his arms around my back, embracing me in his warmth. "Alistair…please…you're making this so hard…" I pleaded, unable to hold back my tears. Alistair sat down, holding me in his lap as he hugged me, resting my head against his shoulder.

"Adeline," he said my name softly, his lips brushing against my bruised forehead. "Kitten," he whispered, nuzzling my cheek, "even if I had to travel to the Black City itself, I would never give up on you." My heart leapt into my throat at his words, and I stared at him, unable to speak. He smiled gently at my look of surprise, carefully wiping tears from my cheeks. "I'll never let you go," he promised, holding me as I closed my eyes, resting my head against his throat.

"I'm sorry, Alistair. I…thought I was going to hurt you," I whispered, and he snorted softly, pressing his lips into my hair.

"How? By being the one good thing that's happened to me since the Blight started?" he chuckled, and I opened my eyes, looking back at him. "I understand Wynne's concern – she came to me a few nights ago and told me the same thing that she probably told you," he added.

"And what did you say?" I asked, and he laughed.

" _I_ didn't say anything; _Zevran_ , of all people, rescued me – started making lewd remarks about her 'magical bosom' and chased her off," he grinned, getting a weak laugh from me.

"See? This is why I've fallen for you – you can make me smile no matter what," I smiled, kissing him, and he pressed his forehead against mine.

"I knew all of my witticisms would get me somewhere," he replied. "Funny, though; no one at the monastery ever seemed to appreciate them, much," he added, and I laughed.

"They obviously don't have your charm or sense of humor, love," I teased, kissing him again. I saw his eyes brighten at the new appellation, and I felt him pull me more tightly against him. We lay in the grass, wrapped in the other's arms and looking up at the constellations until I felt myself drifting off. I sighed, smiling as I closed my eyes; I always felt safe when he was near me, no matter what.

oOo

"See? I knew this would happen eventually. I should have warned you right from the moment we met. It was inevitable," Zevran murmured as he lay next to Neria near the shore of the pond, his arm draped lazily over her side, hand resting lightly on her hip. She smirked up at him, stretching out her neck and kissing his chin.

"And here I thought I seduced you," she replied coquettishly, and Zevran chuckled, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger.

"O-ho! Why aren't you the saucy little minx, then? I've been used and I wasn't even aware of it. A masterpiece!" he grinned. "So, then. As the priestess so famously said to the handsome actor: What now?" he asked, and Neria shrugged.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," she replied.

"Allow me to make it simple for you, my dear. What comes next is entirely up to you," Zevran said, and Neria sat up, pulling her knees up to her chin and looking at him in the moonlight. She was so beautiful, Zevran thought, the way the moonlight washed across her tattooed skin; but he had to say this. "I was raised to take my pleasures where they could be found, for they do not come very often. I shall ask nothing more of you than you are willing to give."

"And…what of love?" she asked softly, and Zevran felt his heart clench up at the hint of pain in her voice.

"I was born of a whore and bred as an assassin. All I know is of pleasure and death. What room is there in these things for love?" he asked, a little harsher than he intended. Neria didn't flinch at his words; instead, her eyes flashed, and Zevran felt a chill run up his spine at the intensity of her stare. This was what the assassin found most intriguing about her – he was rarely on the receiving end of such powerful looks, and it set his heart on fire.

"Well…" Neria began, twining her fingers together as she held Zevran's gaze, "you should know that I'm a hunter – I don't give up on my prey easily." Her eyes could pierce his very soul, the man thought, and the Dalish hunter slowly licked her lips, white teeth flashing in the moonlight – Zevran knew then that any façade that _he_ was the hunter was now gone; he was her prey, body and soul. "And that I'm _certainly_ not going to let you get away after this," she added cheekily, and Zevran smiled at her, sitting up and running a hand over her ear.

"That is good to hear," he murmured, kissing her gently. She smiled that wonderful smile of hers, pressing a light kiss against his neck – one of the spots she had bitten him in earlier – before they stood, finding their clothes.

oooo

Alistair felt Adeline relax at his side, hearing her soft breathing as she fell asleep in his arms. He ran his fingers gently through her hair, knowing that he was smiling like a fool, and not caring one bit. _She called me 'love',_ he thought, warmth spreading through him at the thought. He lay there next to her for a few more minutes before slowly getting up, gathering her gently in his arms and returning Adeline to her tent.

"Goodnight…love," he whispered as he kissed her forehead, tucking her blankets over her and returning to his own tent.

On the way there, he was stopped by Olan – the mabari had knocked down his tent, and was sitting in front of it with one of the pegs in his mouth, a low growl rumbling in his throat. "Olan, what did you do?" Alistair groaned, walking over to start cleaning up. The dog's growl rose in volume, and he dropped the tent peg, his shoulders bristling and his eyes narrowed. Alistair held his hands up in confusion, but the dog only stood down once Alistair took a step back. The man pursed his lips, sitting down and looking at the hound in puzzlement.

"Are you really trying to make me sleep outside tonight?" Alistair asked, and the dog made a low grumble in his throat, sitting down and puffing out his chest, looking at the Templar with disdain. Alistair made a face, crossing his arms. "You are being _very_ childish, you know that?" he asked, and Olan grumbled again, letting out a loud scoff. His ears perked up and he glanced towards the woods sniffing at the air and standing.

Alistair followed his gaze, spotting Neria and Zevran coming back from the woods – both looked rather pleased with themselves, and Alistair tried not to contemplate that too deeply. Olan let out a loud keening, running up to the Dalish Elf and prancing around her, sniffing hurriedly at her and making loud grunts, hopping up on his hind legs as Neria chuckled, pushing the dog down.

"Oh shush, you already have Adeline," she murmured. She glanced over at Alistair, who was still looking at his collapsed tent with chagrin. "What happened here?" the Elf asked, cocking her head as Alistair nodded towards the hound.

" _Someone_ decided to tear my tent down," he replied. Neria chuckled as Olan growled at him, letting out low grunts and nudging her leg with his snout.

"He thinks you're moving in on his territory," Neria explained, and Alistair made a face.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" he asked, and the woman chuckled softly. She sat down next to Alistair, grabbing Olan's shoulders and wrestling the dog to the ground. She scratched the hound's stomach as he rolled on his back, his hind legs kicking in the air as she grinned.

"He's jealous of you and Adeline," she elaborated. "He wants to protect his master, and he's jealous that you're always around her. He feels threatened." Olan gave a low whine of confirmation as he rolled back on his side, resting his head in Neria's lap.

"Olan, she's not going to get _rid_ of you or anything," Alistair argued, but the dog huffed, ignoring him. "You know…if you don't let me fix my tent, I might ask Adeline if I can share hers tonight," Alistair added softly, and Olan's ears shot up straight. "And its cold out – she might ask to share my blankets…" he murmured. The dog snarled and stood, trotting over to Adeline's tent and lying down in front of it, giving the Templar an icy glare as he rested his head on his paws. "…I almost hoped that wouldn't work," Alistair muttered, and Neria laughed, glancing between the two. She stood, helping Alistair to his feet and offering to help fix his tent.

"He'll calm down, eventually," Neria assured him. Alistair wasn't so sure – if looks could kill, they'd be singing the Chant of Light for him right now.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Note:

For those of you who don't like smut, I'll post warnings at the beginnings of the chapters. It might get a bit steamy, but not much more than what's been written here.

Also...Dun _Dun **Duuuun!**_


	34. Chapter 34: Denerim

Chapter 34

Denerim

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[Kingsway – fall]

"Well, Morrigan," I began as we passed through Denerim's gates, "you've seen a city with your own eyes now. What do you think?" I asked, smiling at the woman as she looked about with curiosity, eyes filled with wonder.

"I…have never seen such a collection of merchants and people before. 'Tis always so?" she wondered as her gaze scanned the crowded streets, taking in everything.

"Oh, you should see it on festival days – you can hardly move at all," I replied with a chuckle. Despite our strange group, and the fact that Alistair and I were wanted criminals, we had managed to get into Denerim with absolutely no trouble at all. When I wondered why, Zevran just smirked, nodding towards a poster that he spotted on a wall nearby.

"I believe _that_ is your answer," he replied. I brought the cart to a stop in the Market District, sliding off the seat and joining him by the wall as the others looked about the main market. Alistair glanced over as I suddenly burst out laughing, walking up to us and grinning as he bit back an amused snort.

"They've got my nose all wrong," Alistair remarked, and I cocked my head, looking at our drawings.

"My ears aren't that big, are they?" I asked, still smiling, but suddenly self-conscious.

"They're the perfect size," Alistair teased, pinching one of them playfully, and I snorted, looking back at the poster with amusement. The wanted poster had our names and descriptions, certainly, but the 'artist interpretation' of what we looked like was a sight to behold. I shook my head – the pictures really looked nothing like us at all – and we headed back towards the others. "Well, I guess we'll be safe so long as we don't draw too much attention to ourselves," Alistair remarked, and I nodded.

"True enough. So…who's been here before?" I asked, once we stood back by the cart, and Neria, Leliana, Zevran, Wynne, and Alistair raised their hands. "Alright, perfect. Alistair, Katja, Jowan and Sten can find an inn – the ones around the market are decent enough, and we won't have to worry about getting our throats slit while we sleep. Just steer clear of the docks, and do _not_ go to the Fish Head tavern," I warned. Neria chuckled slightly, and Alistair cocked his head curiously.

"She used to work as a waitress there – the old slaver of a barkeep will have her head if she shows up out of the blue," the Dalish Elf replied, and I scowled, trying to ignore her.

"Olan, you go with them and guard the wagon," I continued, and the mabari gave an affirmative bark. "Zevran, Leliana, Neria, I'd like you three to listen in for word around the city – what's the recent news, people's opinions of the regent…things like that. We can look for Marjolaine tonight," I added the last part in an undertone, and Leliana nodded, a determined look on her face. "Wynne, Oghren, you're in charge of resupplying – remember to get winter clothes and cloaks. Morrigan, you're with me," I finished, and everyone nodded, heading off to complete their tasks.

"So what task shall I be aiding you in?" Morrigan asked as the two of us walked through the market, brushing past merchants and shoppers. I bumped into people, giving small, quick apologies as I backed off, tucking a loose bit of jewelry or a handful of coins into my pockets as we passed by.

"Mmm…nothing that I can think of specifically. I'm just going to the cobbler to get my boot mended," I replied.

"Adeline," Morrigan said softly, and I glanced back at her, "when are you going to fulfill your promise?" She looked…worried, and I smiled reassuringly at her.

"Once the Arl is in stable condition, either awake, or…or dead. I haven't forgotten," I assured her, and she nodded.

"Good. And…thank you," she murmured, and I smiled slightly at how suddenly bashful she had become. We found the cobbler, and I gave him my boots to mend, buying a pair of simple, flat shoes to wear in the meantime. As we walked through the main market once more, I paused, seeing a tired-looking man with decorative armor, talking to one of his subordinates.

"Sanga can't get any help to deal with those ruffians, and the others are a bunch of simpering…" I heard him mutter, running a hand through his brown hair. He glanced over as he caught sight of the two of us watching him, raising an eyebrow. "You here to report _another_ crime? I swear, we should just cordon off the entire district," he sighed wearily, shaking his head. He was quiet for a moment, and his eyes suddenly lit up in recognition. "Oh…uh. Can I help you, Warden?" he asked, and I felt my eyes widen in surprise.

"Don't even try to arrest me," I said, recovering quickly, and the man scoffed, smiling slightly and shaking his head.

"Me? You must be kidding. Even if I believed the 'official story' of what happened at Ostagar, I'm no fool," he replied, and I relaxed my stance a bit. "If I asked my men to apprehend you, they'd all run and cry big, sobby tears in their courtesans' bosoms and leave me all alone to be skewered. Don't disturb the peace in the market and that's well enough for me," he said, and I nodded.

"Fair enough," I agreed. "So…how'd you recognize me?" I asked. "The uh…posters are pretty terrible," I added, and he snorted, glancing towards one of said posters, which hung on a wall nearby. The picture really didn't look anything like me at all.

"Your likeness – an _accurate_ one – was passed around to the senior guardsmen at the palace. I must say, the sketch didn't do you much justice," he explained.

"I'll…uh…take that as I compliment," I murmured.

"Sergeant Kylon," the man introduced himself, and I smiled, shaking his hand.

"Adeline. Though I suppose you knew that," I replied. "So, half a year away from home and the market goes to shit, eh?" I asked with a crooked smile, and he snorted.

"The lower market isn't deemed important by the captain of the guard, even less with Arl Howe in charge. So when I finally get the new men I request, I get the _delightful_ surprise of discovering they're Lord Such-and-Such's illegitimate, untrained, moronic whelps," Kylon grumbled, shaking his head. "But lords keep sending me _more_ of them. It's decent pay, no expectations, a uniform. So I have a legion of bastards to protect the market from pickpockets, stabbings, and what-not. And Arl Howe's specially picked men are the worst of the lot," he almost groaned, and I raised an eyebrow.

"How are they worse?" I asked curiously.

"With the bastards I just have to worry about dicing, the odd bit of drool, or yelling at them too loudly and hurting their poor feelings and then getting chewed out by their noble fathers. But I swear, the Arl's men are more criminal than the miscreants we occasionally arrest," he explained, pausing to think for a moment. "And some of them _are_ the criminals we have to arrest," he added, shaking his head. "So if your lifeblood isn't draining in the gutters as we speak, don't bother reporting it."

"Wait…you mentioned an Arl Howe? I thought Denerim's Arl was Urien Kendells?" I asked, and Kylon shrugged.

"Urien died at Ostagar, and there's no heir, after Vaughan got killed. Heard some Elves broke into the estate and murdered him in cold blood," he glanced at me as I frowned.

"I think that story is slightly inaccurate," I remarked, and he nodded, hearing the firmness in my voice.

"I see," he remarked.

"So, uh…need any help in the market?" I asked as I tried to change the subject, and Morrigan threw me a look. "Oh just go _shopping_ or something if you don't like it," I snorted, and she took my offer, walking off.

"What? You're serious?" Kylon asked in disbelief, and I raised an eyebrow. "I mean, _yes_. Yes, I could use help," he added quickly, seeing that I was, indeed, serious about my offer. "I got a pretty popular…establishment…that's crawling with mercenaries," he began, and I crossed my arms, listening. "If I send my boys in, someone might get – Maker forbid – _hurt_ , and I'll have to explain to their noble fathers that being a guard is _actually_ dangerous," he added with a derisive shake of his head.

"Sooo…by 'establishment' you mean a brothel. The Pearl, I'm guessing, since you mentioned something about Sanga earlier," I concluded, and he nodded.

"Beat down any mercenaries that are out-of-line and send them a message," he continued, seeming to think for a moment. "And I mean _beat down_ , not _kill_. Let me make that _really_ clear. Not on _fire_ , or _exploded_ , or Maker knows whatever type of grisly death you can dream up," he added pointedly, and I grinned. "Sorry…used to giving orders to my boys. Just leave them breathing, and I'll be happy," he added.

"On my honor as a Warden. Er…not that it means much nowadays, I guess. But you get the point," I replied, and he nodded.

"Thank you, Warden. Happy hunting," Kylon said, wishing me luck. As I headed out of the Market District, I glanced up towards the rooftops, spotting Zevran watching me. He slid down the side of the building, landing lightly on a banister and making his way smoothly to the ground.

"Running errands for the city guard, my dear?" he asked teasingly, and I rolled my eyes, smiling slightly.

"Who'd have thought, eh?" I replied. "Care to join me?" I added, and he smiled, saying that it would be his pleasure.

We made our way to the Pearl, and Zevran's smile turned into a smirk as he realized where we were going. I paused as I spotted a strange poster down a side alley – it was just a plain sheet of paper, but what caught my eye was the Grey Warden seal in the bottom corner. I walked over to it, reading the missive. Zevran raised an eyebrow as he read the note as well, glancing at me, and I shrugged.

 _[Don't believe the lies! Friends of the Grey Wardens assemble._ _The hidden pearl holds the key to resistance. The griffons will rise again.]_

oooo

"Ahhh, I grew up in a place such as this. They say you can never go home again, but for ten silvers an hour you can get pretty close," Zevran remarked once we entered the brothel, and I glanced around, spotting the mercenaries. It would be hard _not_ to – their armor was shining white and of fine make, and they were a very rowdy group.

Sanga, a pretty woman with lustrous brown hair, sauntered over to us, seeing me look towards the mercenaries. "That scamp Kylon sent you, right? Glad he hasn't forgotten about us," she concluded, nodding towards the armored men. "The mercenaries are right there. If you're here about other things, just speak up," she added, moving gracefully back towards the counter that stood in the opposite corner of the main room.

"Shall we?" I asked, and Zevran nodded, hands resting lightly on his blades as we approached the mercenaries. They were laughing uproariously, making quite a racket, and I walked over to them, crossing my arms and waiting for them to notice me.

"Who's this now?" one of the mercenaries grinned, looking up at me. "Well now, little lady, want to tell us your name?" he asked with a wink, and I snorted, unimpressed.

"Time to close shop. Before there's trouble," I said simply, and the men looked at me and laughed, making even more noise.

"I almost pity them," Zevran murmured as he stood next to me, "… _almost._ "

"Get a…load… Wait. I recognize you," one of the mercenaries trailed off, staring at me with wide eyes and getting hurriedly to his feet. "You-you're one of the Wardens. Ah…mates, we was leaving," he added quickly, looking around at the others. They saw the panic in his eyes, glancing back at me as I gave a slow, crooked smirk, showing off one of my pointed canines. "Right now as a matter of fact. Sorry!" the lead man gasped, motioning for the others to move out.

The mercenaries nearly ran out of the brothel, and I glanced back at Zevran. "Well…I guess being infamous _does_ have its perks," I shrugged, and he chuckled, pausing as he caught sight of someone over my shoulder.

"We want our money back, Isabela," I heard someone say, and I followed Zevran's gaze. I spotted two large men who smelled of the docks hassling a beautiful Rivaini woman. She had shining amber eyes and dark, lustrous hair, covered in a bright, sky-blue bandana. She wore large, intricate gold earrings, and had a piercing on her lower lip, a thick, gold necklace on her throat.

"Your money? I don't have it. That is the way of money. It comes, it goes – like a fickle lover," she replied as she looked absently at her fingernails, lounging on a cushioned bench in the back corner.

"Lying wench! Give us back what you stole, or we'll take it from you!" the other man demanded, and the woman placed a hand over her heart.

"Why, I do think I am being threatened! Maker! What is the world coming to? A lady being accosted in broad daylight," she said dramatically.

"Stop playing games, Isabela. We want our money," the men continued to bother her.

She crossed her arms as the men spoke to her, her eyes flashing dangerously, but her tone remained nonchalant, and almost bored. "I think you forget who you are speaking to. I will give you a chance to leave quietly," she offered, but the men just seemed to grow angrier at her words.

"You brazen hussy! Someone needs to put you in your place!" one of the other men growled, attacking. My hand flew to my blade as I tensed, but Zevran placed a hand on my shoulder, shaking his head and smiling knowingly. I looked at him oddly as he watched the woman, returning my attention to the fight. She leapt from her seat and had her blades in her hands in one graceful motion, striking like a serpent. She moved like a whirlwind – this Isabela – and I observed silently as she took down both men with almost no effort, not even breaking a sweat.

"She's too good!" one of the men gasped, panting for breath as he lay on the ground, the woman's boot on his chest as she glowered down at him.

"Be off with you now, and be glad I only took from you your gold!" she ordered, removing her foot and watching the two men scamper off. "Heh. Fools…" she smirked, sheathing her blades and glancing over as she noticed Zevran and me watching. She walked up to us, crossing her arms as she stood before Zevran, looking him over. "And look who we have here. Come to apologize for leaving me bereft of my lord husband and then vanishing without a trace?" she asked, her tone carrying a hint of teasing in it.

"You know it was just business, Isabela. Business that turned out well for you, I see – you inherited the ship, I take it?" Zevran replied, and Isabela smiled slightly, placing a hand on her cheek and idly fingering the edge of one of her earrings.

"Hmph. I suppose I never did like the greasy bastard. And the Siren treats me far better than she ever did him," she admitted, glancing towards me and looking me over with a critical eye.

"Should I leave you some time to catch up?" I offered as I looked between the two, and the woman grinned at me, chuckling slightly.

"Any catching up Zevran and I have to do, we wouldn't be doing out here in the lounge. Now, Zev, shouldn't you introduce us?" she replied, and Zevran nodded.

"Indeed. This is Isabela, queen of the eastern seas and the sharpest blade in Llomerryn," Zevran introduced the woman, and she gave an elegant bow, her gold jewelry flashing brilliantly in the candlelight. "And Isabela, my dear, you will no doubt be amused to discover that I am traveling with a Grey Warden. This is Adeline," he added, indicating me, and I nodded respectfully to the formidable woman.

"A Grey Warden? Charmed," Isabela smiled.

"Likewise," I replied politely.

"But Grey Warden or no, it is refreshing to see another woman who answers to no one," she added, and I shrugged.

"You're one of the few who approve," I admitted.

"Now, what can I do for you, my dear?" Isabela asked, and I nodded towards the door of the brothel.

"That was quite impressive," I complimented, referring to the fight from earlier, and she smiled at me, laughing softly and shaking her head.

"None of these poor brutes has ever proven a match for me. They are too clumsy and predictable," she clucked her tongue with distaste. "I fight with quickness and wit, rather than with brute force and strength. I call myself a duelist because I honed my skills in duels with warriors I encountered over the years," she explained, and she grinned, seeing a flash of interest in my eyes.

"Could _I_ duel you?" I asked suddenly, and she laughed, glancing at Zevran.

"Rather headstrong for a rogue, isn't she?" the woman grinned, and Zevran chuckled at my eagerness. "As I said, it is better to avoid being hit. And it is best not to get into fights at all," she added gently, and I shrugged, not letting this deter me.

"Then will you teach me what you know?" I prodded.

"Ha! An unusual request coming from a fearsome slayer of darkspawn. I am flattered that you wish to learn from me, sweet thing," Isabela replied. "It will take you years of practice to achieve true mastery of the style, but I can teach you the basics," she offered. "I do, however, wish to get to know my potential student better, so we shall call for a drink and you will honor me with a game," she added, and I nodded.

"Of course," I accepted the offer. "What game?" I asked as we found a table, and Sanga sent a serving girl to get us drinks.

"Have you ever played Wicked Grace? It is easy to learn, but difficult to master. You must watch your opponent's moves as carefully as your own," the woman replied, and I nodded.

"Yes, I've played before," I replied. I had picked it up from some sailors, years ago, and had played it with Daveth and Shianni sometimes.

"Ah, good, then I don't have to explain the rules," Isabela replied. "Before we start, the cards must be shuffled. Shall I, or would you like to?" she asked, and I shrugged, passing her the deck.

"As you would," I said, and she nodded, shuffling the cards.

oOo

"There, that should be sufficient. Five cards each to start with…and may the cleverest player win," Isabela said, shaking Adeline's hand before they began, smiling charmingly. Zevran sat down next to Adeline, watching her play the game, and frankly, not at all surprised that she had played before. _You learn something new every day,_ the Elf thought, observing his companion. She had a decent hand, and he glanced towards Isabela as the two women followed each other's every move.

"It looks like the deck is being kind to me today," Isabela remarked quietly, looking carefully at her cards and smiling slightly. Adeline drew another card from the deck, laying one from her hand face-down on the table. Isabela took a sip of ale. Zevran rested his chin on his hand as he propped his elbow up on the table, watching the women. "So did you grow up in Denerim?" Isabela asked, trying to make small-talk.

"Yes. In the Alienage," Adeline nodded, her eyes moving carefully over her cards as she took a sip of her drink.

"Heard there's been some trouble in the last couple of months," Isabela remarked absently, looking at one of her cards with interest.

"Oh? I've been away from the city for some time," Adeline replied.

"Rumors tell that a pair of Elves broke into the Arl of Denerim's estate and slaughtered the entire guard, and the Arl's son, to boot," Isabela said, and Zevran watched his companion very closely, noticing the tiniest hint of anger in her eyes as her lip twitched.

"Completely unprovoked, according to the guards, right?" Adeline guessed, her tone carrying a hint of distaste.

"Not the whole story, I take it?" Isabela concluded, and Adeline snorted.

"Is it ever?" the girl replied, although she made no further comment. Isabela nodded politely, seeing that it wasn't a topic she wanted to continue talking about.

"We seem to have run out of ale. I shall send my boy to fetch some," Isabela said after a while, glancing to her cabin-boy, who ran off to get more drinks. As Isabela watched the boy go, Zevran thought he saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced back towards Adeline, seeing two new cards in her hand, and he quickly composed himself, not wanting to give her away. "I…where did my cards go? That's…bizarre. Did I drop them?" Isabela murmured, glancing at Adeline, who shrugged, imitating her confused look.

 _Impressive. I barely saw her move,_ Zevran thought, trying not to smirk as he watched the game progress. As the women continued playing, Adeline waited for another distraction before darting her hand out again, palming a card from the deck. Zevran saw it this time, glancing at her cards and looking back towards Isabela. The woman drew another card, smiling slightly as she saw the pattern on it, looking at Adeline.

"Ha! The angel of death card! The game is over. We must show our hands," Isabela remarked, placing her cards on the table. "I…have nothing. I must not have been paying attention, I–" she glanced at Adeline's cards, and her eyes widened with surprise. "Wait a minute, those are my cards… Did you…steal them from me? Without me noticing?" she asked, sounding impressed. "That is…truly extraordinary. I don't know how you did it, but…you've definitely made an impression," Isabela grinned, propping her elbows up on the table and resting her chin on her hands, looking Adeline over with shining eyes. "You have proven yourself quick and resourceful, and I would be honored to pass my skills on to you," she added, and the girl smiled, bowing her head slightly.

"The honor is mine, Isabela," Adeline replied.

"Come, we will need some space for this," she said, and the women stood, Isabela leading Adeline out to a back alley for a duel. _Well,_ Zevran thought, standing and walking towards the back of the brothel, _may as well investigate that poster while I wait._ As he headed to the back, Zevran followed the hallway towards a door at the end of the corridor, finding the Grey Warden seal carved into the bottom corner of the frame. He knocked lightly on the door, waiting for a response.

"What's the password?" a man's voice called from within, and Zevran raised an eyebrow.

"The griffons will rise again," the Elf replied, and he heard the door unlock. It swung open a moment later, and a man motioned hurriedly for him to enter.

"Come in. Quickly," he whispered, and Zevran walked into the room, his hands resting lightly on the pommels of his blades, sensing that this was an ambush. The man bolted the door shut behind him before returning to his place among the others. Four people stood in the room, very well armed, and wearing heavy, decorative armor; a human man, a stern-faced Elf woman, and a pair of Qunari men without horns. "Another Grey Warden supporter," the human remarked, crossing his arms and looking at Zevran with distaste.

"Not just a supporter," the Elf woman observed, looking at Zevran carefully as the dark-skinned Elf sized up his opponents, "that's one of the Wardens' traveling companions."

"Our trap landed one of their group?" The human was almost excited, grinning cruelly at Zevran, who continued to look about the room coolly. "You've got one chance to surrender," he added. _Take out the Qunari pair first, then the Elf. Leave the leader for questioning, if possible,_ Zevran thought, looking towards the man with a hint of disdain.

"Surrender? So that I can be used as bait for my dear Warden? I don't think so," Zevran smirked. His hand darted to his belt, grabbing one of the small, ceramic flasks that he kept on hand. He threw it at the wall, right next to the pair of Qunari, and the round object shattered, sending hundreds of sharp splinters of ceramic flying every which way. Green-tinged smoke began billowing out of the thick liquid that dripped down the wall as it evaporated, filling the room with the paralyzing toxin.

Zevran had taken weeks to perfect the poison-gas grenades, taking small doses of the poison to build up a resistance to it; the toxin had been extracted from the giant spiders in the Deep Roads, mixed with concentrated death root, and as the Elf watched, the mercenaries fell to the ground, twitching as their skin swelled up, the inflammation making it hard to breath. Zevran watched them writhe about, crossing his arms and feeling no pity – they would not have shown mercy to him, had their roles been reversed.

He knelt, once he was satisfied, and slit the throats of the two Qunari, and the Elf woman. He interrogated the human, learning that his name was Paedan, and that he had been hired by Arl Rendon Howe to lure and kill any Grey Warden supporters. _Adeline will not be pleased by this information,_ Zevran thought, once he had finished Paedan off, retrieving a congratulatory note from the man's corpse from his employer. _Now…_ he thought, sheathing his knife and looking around the room, _I wonder if that acid I've been working on can help get rid of these bodies…_

oooo

Wynne glanced at Oghren as they shopped, pausing as the Dwarf stopped suddenly. "Ugh. Got something in my… Sod it," he grumbled, and she looked at him curiously.

"What are you…? Never mind, I don't want to know," she sighed, shaking her head slightly. More likely than not, it would lead to some crude joke or innuendo – both he and Zevran seemed intent on pestering her with such things whenever they could.

"That's right. Keep your nose up. You know, just because we don't all live in some tower in the clouds doesn't mean we're worthless," Oghren muttered, and Wynne looked back at him with a startled expression.

"I didn't…" she began, but the Dwarf cut her off.

"And _furthermore_ , I don't think I appreciate the way you looked at me last night," Oghren added, and she gave him a strange look.

"The way I…what?" she asked in confusion. Her memory had come and gone sometimes…but she hadn't been looking at him last night – of that she was certain.

"Oh, you remember. Those longing eyes, hungry for a bit of a tussle…" Oghren urged, and Wynne scoffed at the thought.

"I never looked at you, Dwarf. Definitely not in that way," she said firmly, and Oghren scratched his chin, nodding slightly as he thought about it.

"Oh, you're right. Must have been the dog," he replied. _I don't know whether to be relived or insulted,_ Wynne thought, shaking her head a bit. She glanced nearby as she heard familiar voices, spotting Jowan and Neria doing a bit of shopping as well. The pair greeted them as they walked over, telling them what supplies they had purchased. As the four of them finished their shopping, they spotted Alistair coming towards them, the young man raising a hand in greeting.

"We've found a place to rest for the night, so I came back to check if you needed help," Alistair explained, offering to carry Wynne's bag. Oghren decided to stay at the market – he said he had a craving for barbequed nug with hot sauce, and wondered if he could find any place that served it among the exotic market stalls. Neria and Jowan said that they were going to look around a bit more – Jowan wanted to stop by the Wonders of Thedas before they returned to the inn for the evening; according to Neria, they sold full sets of enchanted Tevinter robes, and he wanted to see for himself.

"Why thank you, Alistair," the old woman smiled as Alistair picked up Oghren's share of the supplies as well. She liked the young Templar very much, and had been watching his relationship with Adeline as it developed over the past few months. She worried about them…but she also felt a bit guilty about what she had said to Adeline the other night. _Perhaps I was too hard on her,_ the old woman thought. _I will apologize to her later._

What the spirit had said had also bothered her, but she tried to put the thought out of her head. _I don't know if the spirit is wrong…but I have yet to see signs that Adeline is possessed. Perhaps I can investigate this further…_ Wynne glanced towards Alistair, smiling slightly as she watched the young Templar.

It was obvious that Alistair was quite smitten with Adeline; he watched her with eyes filled with such warmth that it touched Wynne's heart to see them together. She couldn't help but tease him about it a little, and she smiled as Alistair led her back to the inn to drop off their supplies. "Alistair, may I have a word?" the old woman asked, and Alistair glanced back, nodding slightly as he smiled.

"Of course, anything for my favouritest mage ever," Alistair replied cheerily.

"It seems you and our fearless leader are inseparable these days. Joined at the hip, almost," Wynne remarked, and Alistair raised an eyebrow at the observation.

"That's a bit of an overstatement, don't you think?" he argued, and Wynne suppressed a small smile.

"Well then, now that you're in an intimate relationship, you should learn about where babies _really_ come from," Wynne began, and Alistair's eyes widened in surprise.

"Pardon?" he asked, his voice rising an octave as he almost dropped what he was carrying.

"I know the Chantry says you dream about your babies, and the good Fade spirits take them out of the Fade and leave them in your arms…" Wynne continued, "…but that's not true. Actually, what happens is that when a girl and a boy really love each other–"

"Andraste's flaming _sword!_ I _know_ where babies come from!" Alistair exclaimed, his cheeks going red as Wynne smiled charmingly at him.

"Do you? Do you _really?_ " the old woman insisted, and Alistair huffed.

"I certainly _hope_ so," he replied, turning to face the other way.

"Oh, alright then. Aww, look, you're all red and mottled. How cute," Wynne teased, and Alistair scowled back at her grumpily.

"You did that on purpose!" he growled, and Wynne smiled innocently.

"Now, now Alistair, why would I do such a thing?" she replied, and he narrowed his eyes.

"Because you're _wicked_. That frail old lady act? I'm _so_ not fooled. I'm on to you now," Alistair pointed accusingly at her, turning back around as he tried to calm himself down. _Maker's_ _ **breath**_ _,_ he thought, struggling to fight the blush that rose in his cheeks.

oooo

Leliana walked easily through the streets of Denerim, blending into the crowd without leaving a trace. _Marjolaine's teachings are good for_ _ **something**_ _, I suppose,_ she thought with a hint of bitterness. She peeked out from behind an alleyway, spotting Adeline and Zevran trotting through the Market district to stop in front of a tall, armored man, as if they were reporting something. _Ah, doing good deeds and making a bit of coin on the side?_ she thought with a smile.

The Elf woman intrigued her – if she had to describe Adeline, she would liken her to a roaring fire. Sometimes it crackled warmly in the hearth, content and spreading its warmth to those around it, and other times burning in a raging inferno that threatened to consume everything. And yet…sometimes, even sputtering and threatening to go out, like a candle in the wind.

 _She would make a good bard,_ Leliana thought as she leaned against a building, biting her lip as she thought about the girl's talents – she was already skilled with throwing knives, and had a pretty voice, and a certain grace to her; the bardic arts would come easily to her, should she want to learn. _But that would be…dangerous_ , Leliana cautioned herself. _She reminds me much of Marjolaine from years ago, and I would not want this life to destroy her…as it did my love…_ Her eyes glazed over for a moment before they hardened.

 _No. Adeline is nothing like Marjolaine. She cares about us…and I can see that she would never wish harm on any of us. Especially not in the way that Marjolaine has done._ With a short, sharp nod, Leliana felt her heart calm, looking coolly down at the paper with the address to Marjolaine's place written on it. _I am coming for you, Marjolaine. Just you wait._

She returned to the inn, having seen Alistair and Wynne entering the place, and she slowed down as she spotted Sten standing next to Dancia in the small courtyard next to the inn, brushing the horse's lustrous mane. _Oh? He has a soft spot for animals?_ Leliana wondered, watching from a nearby alleyway. Olan trotted over to the Qunari and looked at him with large, inquisitive eyes.

"What do you want, now?" Sten asked; evidently, this hadn't been the first time Olan had pestered him for something. Olan barked, sitting down and wagging his tail. Sten ignored the dog, returning to brushing Dancia. "I don't understand you," he said, and Olan's ears twitched. Dancia snorted softly, and Sten patted her snout gently, murmuring something in Qunlat.

Olan stood and trotted around in a small circle, barking twice and giving a plaintive whine. Sten let out a sigh, turning back and looking at the mabari hound. "…are you trying to say something about a child in a well?" he asked, and Olan cocked his head, looking at him questioningly. "No? Never mind, then…"

A soft mewling caught the Qunari's attention, and he glanced up, seeing a kitten sitting on the top of the stable, its eyes wide and its fur puffed out in fear. Sten walked over and watched it for a few moments, holding out a hand and murmuring something softly. To Leliana's surprise, the kitten seemed to calm down a bit, walking gingerly into Sten's outstretched hand as the Qunari helped it to the ground. Leliana stifled a giggle as the tiny kitten trotted after Sten, the giant man glancing back as it gave a pitiful meow.

Sten knelt down, looking at the kitten quietly as it gazed up at him with big, curious eyes, giving another meow. The Qunari let out a sigh, sitting down and plucking a piece of grass from the ground in the small courtyard, dangling it for the kitten to play with. _He's a big softie!_ Leliana covered her mouth as she tried not to giggle – if she hadn't seen it herself, she never would have believed it.

oOo

"So what are we doing here boss? The others are probably back at the inn by now," Oghren asked as we walked past the main market's central tent, and I shrugged. We had joined up after Zevran and I had finished a few jobs for Kylon, and in return, the Sergeant had promised to counter the slanders against the Grey Wardens…at least here in the Market District. The assassin had also informed me of Arl Howe's trap in the Pearl, and I thanked him for taking care of the problem while I had been out in the back alley with Isabela.

When Zevran had caught sight of a pair of Antivan merchants near the large tent in the market, though, he had made himself scarce, using the excuse that he was tired. I concluded that the two merchants had a connection to the Crows, although I refrained from pushing Zevran for answers.

"Just wanted to see the Alienage," I replied, nodding towards a corner of the Market District. "Or maybe just…stand outside the gates and peek inside. Or…or maybe sit on a rooftop where no one can spot me…" I trailed off as I noticed the odd look Oghren was giving me, and I cleared my throat.

"So…not expecting a warm welcome?" he asked, and I made a face.

"Hah, you can say that again. Everyone probably still thinks I'm _dead_ ," I sighed, looking towards the Alienage gates with a hint of sadness in my eyes. "Wait…why are the…?" I murmured, walking over to the large, barred gates and glancing at a nearby guard. "That's…strange. Guardsman, why're the gates shut?" I questioned, and the guard shrugged absently, leaning idly against the wall.

"By order of the new Arl of Denerim, no one is to enter the Alienage," he explained, and I pursed my lips, looking at him oddly.

"But… _why?_ " I insisted, pointing to the gates.

"There's been an Elven uprising. Your knife-eared brethren even have the gall to attack the Arl's only son! Killed him in cold blood," the man explained, and I bit back a derisive snort, narrowing my eyes slightly. "With the whole Kendells family dead, the Regent appointed Rendon Howe of Amaranthine the new Arl of Denerim. First thing he did was take care of the Elves – it's a mess in there," he added. "When things are put back in order, the gates will be reopened. Now, on your way," the guard urged, and I nodded brusquely, turning and walking away.

"That's not good…" I murmured as we walked, biting my lip slightly. _'Take care of the Elves'…does that mean he…? No, he couldn't have…could he?_ In my distraction I had wandered back towards the main market, and I paused as I caught the words 'crafts from Orzammar' in the air. I spotted a Dwarven merchant standing a little ways of from the bear cages, selling from a rack of finely crafted weapons and armor.

He had copper hair and a short, braided beard decorated with a silver ring. I wandered over curiously, Oghren following a little ways behind me, and the merchant Dwarf glanced at me with a smile. "Welcome. Welcome. We sell only the strongest Dwarven steel, folded over a hundred times in the forges of Orzammar. In times like these you – wait. Oghren? Is that you?" he asked with surprise, seeing Oghren standing behind me.

"You messed up your sales pitch, Gorim. You were just getting to the good part, too," Oghren chuckled. "See, _this_ is why warriors make bad merchants," he added, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Gorim? Huh, sounds kind of familiar…" I murmured, crossing my arms. "Who is this guy, Oghren?" I added, and the warrior shrugged.

"Gorim here was personal boot-licker to King Endrin's favorite kid. I wondered what they did to you after Trian died. Not very much, though," Oghren replied, and my eyes widened at the mention of Trian's name. _Wait…I_ _ **do**_ _know who he is!_ I thought, suddenly excited.

"What are you doing here?" Gorim asked Oghren, his eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance. _Ah, right. Duran said Gorim used to kick Oghren out of the royal palace a lot,_ I recalled, glancing between the two.

"I'm fighting. It's what warriors do. But don't let me distract you from hawking your junk," Oghren replied, slightly mocking, and Gorim scoffed.

" _You're_ fighting? What army would have you?" the merchant asked skeptically, and Oghren crossed his arms, grinning crookedly and nodding towards me.

"The Grey Wardens. Needed someone with my skills to handle this Blight," he chuckled, and Gorim rolled his eyes.

"And I've got a tower in Orzammar to sell you. Speaking of which, I have Dwarven steel for sale," the merchant said, and I tapped my chin lightly, looking him over carefully.

"Gorim…" I said, "Gorim…Saelac?" I tried and he glanced up at me.

"That's my name. You've heard of me?" he asked, and I smiled slightly.

"Aye. Duran told me about you," I replied, and his eyes widened.

"…Duran? Lord Aeducan?" he murmured, and I nodded. "But I've never seen you before. I think I'd remember seeing an Elf in Orzammar," the Dwarf remarked, and I shrugged.

"This was _after_ the…incident with Trian," I explained, and he stared up at me with surprise. "I met Duran in the Deep Roads, after he had been exiled. He made it to the Legion, and is alive and well. Well…as alive as you can be in the _Legion_ I suppose," I smiled, watching as the Dwarf's face contorted in a mixture of shock and relief.

"Thank the Stone…" he murmured, looking up at me again and shaking my hand gratefully. "And thank you, stranger, for bringing me this news. I knew Duran would make it. He's too stubborn to die," the Dwarf laughed, light in his eyes.

oooo

As Oghren and I began heading back towards the main market to find the others, I glanced up as I spotted a familiar face. A stocky, orange-haired man was leaning against the wall of a nearby house, stroking his short goatee absently and looking over as we passed. I paused, and he stared at me, recognition flashing in his eyes.

"Tabby? That you?" he asked in disbelief, pushing himself off the wall.

"…Slim?" I replied, and he grinned, taking my hands and shaking them vigorously.

"Hah! Never thought I'd see you poking your nose around here again; word round the Alienage and the market is that you died. _Twice_ , even," Slim said with a laugh, and I smirked, crossing my arms as he let go of my hands.

"Well, you know what they say about cats," I joked, and he nodded.

"Aye, but watch the seven lives you've got left, Tabby," he added in a slightly cautionary tone, and I sighed.

"I think I'm down to four, honestly," I replied wearily.

"I've heard you're putting up the good fight against Loghain and Howe, right? Good for you. Maker spit on all those arrogant noble bastards," Slim said reassuringly, and I chuckled. _Ah, good old Slim,_ I thought, glad that we had seen each other. Oghren glanced between the two of us, stroking one of his braids thoughtfully and nodding towards Slim when he caught my eye.

"Friend of yours, boss?" the Dwarf asked, and I nodded, smiling slightly.

"Mm-hm. He tossed…jobs my way now and again, if you catch my meaning," I replied, and Slim introduced himself.

"The name is Slim Couldry, and if you've heard of me, I've been doing a sad job of it, haven't I?" he chuckled. "I hear a great many things. And for those of us who view certain pesky laws as mere…nuisances, there's some ripe fruit to be plucked out there," Slim added, and I glanced back towards the main market, feeling nostalgic.

"Well, we _could_ use the coin…and sod it, I'm a wanted woman already. What've you got for me?" I asked, and Oghren raised an eyebrow at my eagerness.

"I've got one – should be easy-pickings, even if you're a bit rusty. 50 silver," Slim offered, and I nodded, passing him the coins.

"Tell me about it," I replied, leaning against the building and trying to look nonchalant as the man described my mark.

"A lady's maid is in the marketplace. She's wearing bright green – should be easy to spot. She's got a purse with some of her mistress' ill-gotten gems. Just relieve her of her purse and then we both come out ahead," Slim explained, and I nodded.

"Hah! Too bad Davvy's not here. He was always good for a distraction. Oghren, you can head back ahead of me. I have a feeling I'm going to be here all day," I sighed with nostalgia, walking off towards the main market to find this woman.

I spotted her browsing some wares by the Antivan merchants, a small crow sitting on top of the nearby bear cage, looking down at me with beady eyes. _Crow, eh? I guess that's the sign,_ I thought, remembering my first meeting with Zevran – the caravan he had been traveling with had _also_ had the birds with them. I sidled up next to the girl, looking at some of the goods. As she turned to go, I bumped into her a bit, apologizing quickly before heading back to Slim, dangling the purse of gems around my little finger and smirking at him.

"You're back, eh Tabby?" Slim asked, seeming pleasantly surprised.

"Easy pickings even if I'm rusty, hmm?" I teased, and he smiled at my cocky attitude.

"One lady's maid groped and pilfered. At least that's how I'd like to _imagine_ it happened. You want something else?" Slim said, and I winked at him.

"Larceny's in the blood, Slim. Got anything more…challenging?" I grinned, and he laughed.

"Hah, that's the smart-mouthed cat I remember. I got one – _better_ than the last. One sovereign," Slim offered, and I nodded, handing him the gold coin.

"Who's my mark?" I asked, and he smiled crookedly at me.

"I thought you might like this one. Ser Nancine has a fancy and _expensive_ sword – paid for courtesy of her oppressive taxes on her lands. She's going to be at the Wonders of Thedas soon, no doubt figuring new ways to kick her peasants where it hurts," Slim described, and I nodded, glancing out towards the market. "This swipe will be tougher – she's got good eyes and stealing a sword from a scabbard isn't easy. Good hunting to you, Tabby," he bade me farewell as I headed off.

I went down past the Gnawed Noble and through some back alleys, finding the Wonders of Thedas. I walked in, passing by the other customers that were browsing the curious wares that lined the shelves and tables. Jowan and Neria were there, and Jowan had bought himself a pair of proper mage robes – Tevinter robes by the style. When they asked what I was doing, I said 'work', and gave Neria a knowing look. Jowan seemed curious, but Neria said that she'd explain later as they headed out.

The proprietor was a Tranquil mage, who greeted me blandly as I walked by. I nodded a greeting as well, spotting a blonde-haired woman wearing very expensive-looking armor up on the second level, past the large, ornate glass orb decorated with gold that stood on a pedestal behind the proprietor's desk. Before I headed up to the second level, however, I looked around the store, trying to act casual and blend in. I hadn't been to the Wonders of Thedas in years, and I smiled slightly as I browsed the shelves.

My eyes lingered on a set of carved stone figures, decorated with lines of semi-precious stones and metals. I recalled Alistair mentioning something about miniature figurines when we were on our way to Denerim, and I looked them over, picking out the figure of a golem. I bought the figure, as well as an enchanted ring that guarded against fire spells, having the proprietor wrap the objects in a box for me. _Now I'll just have to hide them away until Satinalia,_ I thought, tucking the small box into my pack and heading up the stairs, finding Ser Nancine.

The woman was browsing a bookshelf, muttering to herself about the cold. She sniffled and coughed a bit, and I formed a plan as I walked over to her. She glanced up from searching the shelves at my approach. "Ahh…a peasant. How delightful," she mused, coughing and sniffing as she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

I watched her in silence for a few moments, adopting a grave tone. "Oh dear. I know that cough. Poor thing," I murmured as I clucked my tongue softly, and Nancine coughed again, narrowing her eyes at me slightly.

"What? What are you going on about?" she demanded, and I walked closer to her, leaning in and inspecting her carefully.

"Let me look you over," I offered, and she watched me nervously, her eyes suspicious.

"Not too close, you filthy commoner. Y-you don't see anything, do you?" she asked, her tone worried and her voice strained from coughing.

"Maker's breath, it's the Midnight Pox!" I gasped dramatically, and the woman stared at me in fear.

"Th-the Midnight Pox? I've never heard of that. I'm fine; it's just a cough. I'm fine!" she assured me, coughing and blowing her nose in a kerchief.

"It starts with a cough. But it'll be _boils_ next," I said ominously, and she shivered.

"B-boils?" she echoed, her eyes large, and I nodded sadly.

"On your _tongue_ ," I added, and she gasped. "Be strong, my dear," I said, patting her shoulder sympathetically. "Do you feel short of breath? Any trouble breathing? At all?" I added, and the woman began to panic at my words.

"I-I do feel a little faint. Dear Andraste, no. Wh-what should I do?" she gasped, her breathing picking up as she grabbed my arms, her eyes wide with fear.

"Sit down, right now. Breathe deeply. Keep breathing!" I ordered, sitting her down in a nearby chair. She took quick, deep breaths, staring up at me.

"Y-yes, I will breathe," she said, her voice wavering. "I…feel faint," she gasped dizzily, and I leaned over her, taking the sword from its sheath as she closed her eyes.

"Stay here, I'm going to get help!" I exclaimed dramatically, trotting off with the sword looped through my belt.

"Bless you, stranger, bless you!" Nancine waved me off, passing out from hyperventilating. _Heh, sucker,_ I thought as I left the shop, returning to Slim. He grinned at me as I showed him the sword, giving it to him and telling him to save my share once he got it back to the buyer.

"Once Ser Nancine realizes she's robbed I bet she'll be _furious_. That's delicious," Slim chuckled, patting me on the back. "Truly well done. You have time for another?" he added, and I glanced up at the sky as it turned orange and pink.

"Sun's setting…but I think I've got time before the others come looking for me," I replied, and he nodded sagely, tucking the sword somewhere out of sight.

"It'll cost you three sovereigns," he said, and I handed over the coins.

"Alright, tell me," I prodded.

"We're not stealing from a lass this time; we're stealing from Bann Darby," he explained, and I whistled, impressed. "Master Tilver – the Bann's silversmith – has been on holiday for the past couple weeks, but he's in town for the day. All of his valuable, expensive goods are locked up tight – but he has the key. He's got two guards with him; not the cheap kind, either. If you can get by them, you should be good. Luck to you Tabby," Slim described and I nodded as he pointed me in the right direction.

I found the man hanging around the alley behind Wade's Emporium, wondering what in the world he was doing back here. He was a thin, narrow-faced man with dark hair and a disdainful air about him. I hung back, listening as his guards gossiped about something nearby.

"Hope the harlot shows up soon. There's a few things I'd like to do _myself_ in Denerim," one of the guards muttered, leaning against a wall.

"How long's the boss going to wait for a whore?" the other one scoffed, shaking his head slightly. The first one glanced up at my approach, holding out his hand to stop me.

"Sorry, the alley's occupied," he explained, and I shrugged.

"I'm here about a 'lady'," I replied, and Tilver glanced up at my words.

"Let her in!" he said hurriedly, and the guards let me pass.

"Go on, then. But I'm watching you," the first guard said, watching me suspiciously as I went by.

"Where's Eloise?" Tilver demanded, his tone impatient. I held up my hands as I tried to calm the agitated man.

"She's running late. Making herself pretty for you," I assured him, and he sighed.

"Excellent. I cannot wait – I rode three days to be here. Is it true that she's…'untasted'?" he asked, and I tried to control my surprise at his words.

I leaned in closed with a knowing smile, nodding and whispering to him, "untouched by any man." **_Untasted_** _?_ _How old_ _ **is**_ _she you sick bastard?_ I thought, snatching the key from the man's belt while he was distracted.

"The anticipation is killing me. Thank you, I will let Sanga know how helpful you've been," the man said, shaking my hand before I left, bidding him farewell. I took everything out of Tilver's lockbox in the square, returning to Slim and giving him half for the information.

"So you've struck again, eh? Bann Darby will be foaming at the mouth. I bet all of those rich louts will be afraid to go out, ha!" Slim laughed.

"Say, anything else Slim?" I asked, still eager to do more; I had almost forgotten how much I loved this sort of work. 'Puting the nobles in their places' as Slim put it.

"I've been lining something up, just your style. The bleeding _perfect_ mark; it'll be your greatest crime yet!" he said enticingly, "but so far, the opportunity hasn't presented itself. If I find a way, I'll let you know," Slim promised, and I nodded, thanking him.

"Alright, then. Ah, seems they've sent out the search party," a chuckled, glancing up as I spotted Alistair and Olan coming towards us.

"I hear from Oghren you've met an old…'friend' of yours?" Alistair asked, looking at Slim curiously.

"Indeed I have. No need to trouble yourself with it, though," I said, looping my arm in his and turning him about, and Slim nodded farewell as he headed home. "So, have we found an inn for the night?"

"Yes, but don't change the subject," Alistair replied, giving me a pointed look. I rolled my eyes, smiling up at him reassuringly.

"He's an old friend – I trust him more than most shems in the city, anyhow. _And_ he hates Loghain – and most nobles for that matter – so there's no need to worry about him turning us in for coin," I explained, and Alistair let out a small sigh, nodding slightly.

"…alright. I guess you've been doing this for a long time," he mumbled, and I laughed.

"A long time indeed," I replied. He looked a bit concerned, and I grinned, jostling his arm playfully. "Oh don't _worry_ so much, dear – I could steal the crown off the Teyrn's head, and he wouldn't notice a thing," I winked, and Alistair snorted softly at my attitude.

"Well at least _one_ of us is confident about that," he smiled, and I laughed.

"Cocky, more like," I admitted, walking arm-in-arm with him, pausing as I remembered something. "Ah right, you want to find Goldanna's place now, or wait for tomorrow?" I asked, and Alistair paused, rummaging through his pocket and looking at the address he had on a slip of paper.

"Hmm…well, I think she's right nearby here, actually," he remarked, suddenly nervous. "Come on then, let's go," he added quickly, wanting to look before he lost his nerve.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	35. Chapter 35: Hardened Hearts

Chapter 35

Hardened Hearts

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"That's…my sister's house. I'm almost sure of it, this is…yes, this is the right address," Alistair murmured as we came to the place. "She could be inside. Could we…go and see?" he asked nervously, looking up at the old building with big eyes. As it turned out, Goldanna lived next to Wade's Emporium, right by the main market.

"Wouldn't you rather meet her on your own?" I asked curiously, glancing up at him.

"Do I seem a little nervous? I am. I really don't know what to expect," Alistair admitted. He sounded a little scared, actually. "I'd like you to be there with me, if you're willing. Or we could…leave, I suppose. We really don't have time to pay a visit, do we? Maybe we should go," Alistair said, turning around to leave. I laughed, stepping in front of him and placing a hand on his chest. I could feel his heart pounding under my fingers, and my smile softened at his nervousness.

"Don't be scared, Alistair. I'll be here with you," I promised, standing on my toes and giving him a light kiss on the cheek. I smiled reassuringly, taking his hand, and he calmed down a fraction, nodding slightly and looking back towards the house.

"Will she even know who I am? Does she even know I exist? My sister. That sounds very strange…" Alistair murmured, sounding out the word. "Sister. _Siiiissster_ ," he rolled the word over his tongue, making a face, as if it were something foreign, or difficult to pronounce. "Hmmm. Now I'm babbling. Maybe we should go. Let's go. Let's just…go." He took a deep breath, walking up to the door and knocking nervously, the two of us entering awkwardly as it swung open.

The place was as it had been in the Fade, in Alistair's dream; small…but rather bare, and less cozy and warm than the dream. "Err…hello?" Alistair called, glancing around as we stood by the door, not wanting to intrude further.

"Eh? You have linens to wash? I charge three bits on the bundle, you won't find better," a woman came around the corner, and Alistair and I recognized her from his dream; she had the same red hair, but her voice was more worn and weary, and her children stood around the corner, watching us with round eyes. "And don't trust what that Natalia woman tells you either, she's foreign and she'll rob you blind," she added, crossing her arms as she glanced between us.

"I'm…not here to have any wash done. My name's Alistair," he introduced himself awkwardly. "I'm…well, this may sound sort of strange, but are you Goldanna? If so, I suppose I'm your brother," Alistair tried, and I bit back a smart remark about how she'd definitely buy that, seeing how nervous he was.

"My what? I am Goldanna, yes… How do you know my name? What kind of tomfoolery are you folk up to?" the woman asked, putting her hands on her hips and looking at the two of us sternly, her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Are you sure your information was correct, Alistair?" I asked softly, and he nodded.

"Yes, I…I think so. I'm sure of it, in fact," he replied, returning his attention to Goldanna. "Look, our mother…she worked as a servant in Redcliffe Castle a long time ago, before she died. Do you know about that? She–"

" _You!_ " Goldanna cut him off with a sudden gasp, her eyes flashing with anger as she recognized him. "I knew it! They told me you was dead! They told me the babe was dead along with mother, but I knew they was lying!" she said, glaring at Alistair accusingly.

"They told you I was _dead?_ Who? Who told you that?" Alistair exclaimed, startled by the information.

"Them's at the castle! I told them the babe was the king's, and they said he was dead. Gave me a coin to shut my mouth and sent me on my way! I knew it!" Goldanna growled.

"I'm sorry, I…didn't know that. The babe didn't die. I'm him; I'm…your brother," Alistair said, his voice nervous, and a little unsure.

"For all the good it does me!" the woman scoffed, crossing her arms and glaring. "You killed Mother, you did, and I've had to scrape by all this time? That coin didn't last long, and when I went back they ran me off!"

"Hey, that's uncalled for. You can't just blame Alistair for everything," I argued, liking Goldanna less and less with each passing moment.

"And who in the Maker's name are you? Some Elf to follow him about and carry his riches for him?" the woman glowered at me, and I narrowed my eyes at her sharp words, biting back a nasty retort of my own – I didn't want to add more fuel to the fire.

"Hey! Don't speak to her that way! She's my friend, and a Grey Warden! Just like me!" Alistair retorted, his voice hardening as he glared at the woman.

"Ooohhh, I see. A prince and a _Grey Warden_ , too. Well, who am _I_ to think poorly of someone so high and mighty compared to me?" Goldanna snorted derisively. "I don't know you, boy. Your royal father forced himself on my mother and took her away from me, and what do I got to show for it? Nothing. They tricked me good! I should have told everyone! I got five mouths to feed, and unless you can help with that, I got less than no use for you," she scowled.

"I…I'm sorry, I…I don't know what to say…" Alistair seemed to crumble in on himself, looking at the ground with uncertainty.

"It looks like all she wants is your money," I remarked coolly, and he took in a quiet breath, nodding slightly as he glanced at me.

"Yes, it really seems that way, doesn't it? I wasn't expecting my sister to be so… I'm starting to wonder why I came," Alistair replied.

"I don't know why you came, either, or what you expected to find. But it isn't here! Now get out of my house, the both of you!" Goldanna demanded, pointing towards the door.

"Let's leave. Now," I said, tapping Alistair's forearm lightly.

"I agree. Let's get out of here," he nodded, and we left, Goldanna slamming the door shut behind us with a jarring bang.

We stood outside of the house, staring back up at it, and Alistair let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head, his eyes hurt and confused. "Well that was…not what I expected. To put it lightly," he finally said, and I looked up at him quietly, a little worried. "This is the family I've been wondering about all my life? That shrew is my sister? I can't believe it," he shook his head as he looked back towards the door. "I…I guess I was expecting her to accept me without question. Isn't that what family is supposed to do? I…I feel like a complete idiot," Alistair sighed sadly, and I shook my head, taking his hand gently in mine as he looked at me.

"You're not an idiot, Alistair," I said softly, "you're a good man, with a good heart, but…you need to stand up for yourself more. The world is filled with people who will use you until you're spent, and leave you broken and alone, once you're of no use to them. And…you might not always have someone to watch your back."

"Yes. I…suppose you're right," Alistair agreed, looking at me for a long time before letting out a long sigh. "Let's just go. I don't want to talk about this anymore," he added, and I nodded, following him back to the inn in silence.

oooo

When we got back to the inn, everyone could tell that something was wrong. They gave me questioning looks as Alistair went to his room in silence, but I shook my head, not wanting to share his personal matters. I left him alone, walking over to Leliana, Katja and Zevran, who nodded as they saw my look. "Are we ready for some hunting?" I asked Leliana grimly, and I knew that she was, seeing the fire that burned in her crystal-blue eyes.

The sun had set, and the city was dark as we headed out again, the bard, thief and assassin by my side as we moved silently through the alleys, back towards the Market district. We followed the address on the assassin's note, and it led us down a winding path past the Gnawed Noble and the Wonders of Thedas, to an old, disused warehouse. We stood by the door, and I paused, my hand on the thick wooden frame. "Leliana," I whispered, and she looked at me. "…harden your heart – they will give no quarter," I warned her, and she bit her lip at my words.

I picked the lock and threw open the door, hand flying to my saber as I dashed in, prepared for a fight; I could sense that Marjolaine wasn't the type to be unprepared, and as I saw the pair of armored mercenaries, I immediately leapt on one, cutting his head clean off before he could react. Zevran leapt at the other, stabbing him in the chest and whistling at me as he saw the man's head bounce across the room. "Remind me to never anger you, my dear," the Elf grinned, watching as I flicked blood from the tip of my blade.

We stepped carefully into the next room, pausing; a woman stood before us, wearing a once beautiful dress, now worn with wear, her dark hair decorated with a pair of thin braids that were tied together in the back. She turned around at our approach, spotting Leliana – a sinister gleam flashed through her amber eyes. "Leliana! So lovely to see you again, my dear…" she crooned in her thick Orlesian accent.

"Spare me the pleasantries. I know you're–" Leliana began, but Marjolaine cut her off with an absent wave of her hand.

"Oh, you must excuse the shabby accommodations… I try to be a good host, but you see what I have to work with? This country smells like wet dog. Everywhere. I cannot get the smell out. Even now it is in my hair, my clothes… _ugh_ ," she chattered on, as if we were sitting for afternoon tea.

"Enough talk – why have you sent assassins after Leliana?" I demanded, taking a step so that I was slightly between the two. Marjolaine looked at me steadily, and a small smile played on her lips.

"So business-like, your companion," she remarked to Leliana, crossing her arms.

"You framed me, had me caught and tortured. I thought that in Ferelden, I would be free of you, but it seems I am not," Leliana said, her voice rising in anger. "What happened to make you hate me so? Why do you want me dead so badly?" she nearly yelled, and the woman let out a high, musical laugh that chilled me to the bone.

"Dead? Nonsense. I know you, my Leliana. I know what you are capable of. Four, five men…you can dispatch easily," she grinned, and I could swear I saw a hint of pride in her eyes. "They were sent to give you cause to come to me. And see? Here you are," Marjolaine said simply, and I felt my jaw tighten at her smug tone.

"Right. So I suppose we'll be sitting down for tea and cakes now?" Katja replied, her tone sarcastic, but her finger resting lightly on the trigger of her crossbow, eyes darting to the pair of doors on either side of the room, ready to spring into action.

"You are so transparent," Leliana hissed at the Orlesian woman. "What are you up to, Marjolaine? Why are you in Ferelden?" Marjolaine smiled at the girl, a chilling, deadly look.

"In truth? You have knowledge that you can use against me. For my own safety, I cannot let you be. Did you think I did not know where you were? Did you think I would not watch my Leliana?" The woman asked, slowly walking around us, her eyes scanning over Leliana. "'What is she up to?' I thought. 'The quiet life, the peasant clothes, hair ragged and messy like a boy…this is not her'. You were planning something, I told myself. So I watched…but no letters were sent. No messages. You barely spoke to anyone," Marjolaine stopped right before Leliana, amber eyes piercing into the girl's blue ones. "Clever, Leliana, very clever. You almost had me fooled. But then you left the Chantry, so suddenly. What conclusion should I draw? You tell me."

"You think I left because of _you?_ You think I still have some plan for…for revenge? You are _insane_. Paranoid!" Leliana argued, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at the Orlesian bard.

"Leliana's actions no longer concern you. She is under _my_ care, and if you _dare_ harm her, I–" Marjolaine cut me off with a harsh laugh.

"Oh, is that what you think? If I were you, I would believe nothing she says. Not a one," the woman grinned, brushing past Leliana and standing before me, forcing me to look up at her. "She will use you. You look at her and you see a simple girl – a friend, trusting and warm. It is an act."

"I am _not_ you, Marjolaine. I left because I didn't _want_ to become you," Leliana retorted, and Marjolaine smiled at her.

"Oh, but you _are_ me. You cannot escape it. No one will understand you the way I do, because we are one and the same," the woman breathed, walking up to Leliana and running a hand lightly over the girl's cheek. I saw Leliana's eyelid twitch, and her breath hitched in her throat. "Do you know why you were a master manipulator, Leliana? It is because you enjoyed the game; you reveled in the power it gave you. You cannot change or deny this."

"I trust her, no matter her past," I growled, glaring at the woman as she walked back towards the other end of the room.

"Thank you," Leliana breathed, and I felt her fingers lightly twining with mine. "You will not threaten me or my friends again, Marjolaine. I want you out of my life, _forever_ ," she said firmly, and Marjolaine raised an eyebrow at her tone.

"Leliana…if you let her go now, this will only happen again," I whispered, and she nodded, setting her jaw, pain in her eyes.

"You've caused too much pain for too many, Marjolaine. It ends here," Leliana said, her hand on the short knife she kept at her belt.

"And you think you can kill me, like that? I _made_ you, Leliana. I can destroy you just as easily," Marjolaine laughed, a sinister curl at the end of her words. She suddenly whipped a pair of knives from sheathes strapped to her legs, leaping at Leliana. The girl jumped back, grabbing her short dagger and a throwing knife from her belt, defending herself.

"Do not interfere, Adeline!" Leliana shouted, seeing the look in my eyes.

"…as you wish," I replied, watching the two women crash through the room, knocking over chairs and the small table near the hearth.

"It seems we will not be left out of it," Zevran warned, tapping my shoulder and pointing towards the two doors on either side of the room. Qunari mercenaries ran out, wielding staves, and two armored men followed behind them.

"Take out the mages first," I said quickly, and the Elf and Dwarf nodded. As we fought off the mercenaries, I could hear Marjolaine taunting Leliana behind me. I glanced back for a moment as I heard Leliana's scream of pain, and I gasped; Zevran shoved me hard, and I toppled over, staring up as he stabbed into the armored man's throat.

"You are usually so focused," Zevran chided, helping me up. "Leliana will be fine – we have been sparring, and she has picked up skills her old master does not know," he reassured me, and I nodded, even though I was still worried.

The older woman shrieked – a high, strangled sound – and I whirled back to face her; Leliana had stabbed her in the throat when her mentor tripped over a broken piece of furniture. Marjolaine lay there, staring up at Leliana, the light fading from her eyes as she choked out her last words. "You can never…run from…what you are…my Le…"

Leliana stared at the body of her old master in silence, her fingers clutching her knives so hard that her knuckles were white. Tears rolled down her cheeks, her eyes filled with grief, and she sniffed. "It's over. She's dead. She's dead because of me," Leliana whispered, glancing up at me. "I…I need some time to myself. We…will talk later."

Zevran, Katja and I let her be, going quietly into the other room and letting the distraught girl take her time. I nervously paced the room, worried for her – what if…what if this _hadn't_ been the right thing? What if Marjolaine really _would_ have left her alone?

"-rden…Adeline!" I flinched, looking up at Zevran. He had stopped me from pacing while I was lost in thought, his hands on my shoulders. "She will be fine; Leliana is stronger than you think. You do not need to constantly worry for her…or for _any_ of us," he said softly, placing his thumb on my chin.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, looking up into his amber eyes. He let out a soft breath, smiling faintly at me.

"So, my Warden, if the Crows were ever to come after me–"

"I would fight off every last one, even if I had to do it alone," I said firmly, and he seemed surprised at the determination in my tone. Zevran's eyes softened as he looked at me, warmth in them as he placed a hand gently on my cheek.

"Not alone. I will stand by you," he promised.

oooo

Leliana managed to calm herself enough for us to leave, and I noticed that on her back was a new longbow, with the hand-carved shapes of tiny foxes running along the curve. I didn't ask her where she had found it, but by the way she was holding it, I could tell that the weapon had once belonged to Marjolaine. We wrapped the woman in a sheet and placed her in the fire; Leliana didn't want to leave her body to rot, no matter how the Bard had wronged her.

We returned to the inn, and I bade Leliana, Katja and Zevran goodnight as they went to their rooms. I paused as I walked down the hall, moving slowly and finding Alistair's room. I stood outside the door, hand raised to knock, but I stopped. _I shouldn't bother him,_ I thought, lowering my hand and holding it by my waist, looking down at the ground. _But…he's hurting inside. I want to do something…say something…_ I glanced back up as the door opened, and Alistair leaned against the frame, looking down at me in silence.

His eyes were red and his cheeks were flushed – he smelled faintly of alcohol, and he let out a quiet sigh as he saw my worried look. "I'm sorry. I…I can go…if you don't…" I murmured awkwardly, looking at the ground, and he reached out a hand, wrapping his fingers around my wrist and tugging my arm gently. I walked into the room, and he shut the door behind us, slowly wrapping his arms around me and laying his head on my shoulder, burying his face in my hair.

I placed my arms around him, closing my eyes and letting him lean against me, rubbing a hand across his back in a slow circle, patting it gently and murmuring soft words to him. Alistair let out a long, slow breath, pulling his face out of my hair and walking across the room, running his hands through his own hair and looking distraught.

I walked up to him as he sat on the bed, sitting down beside him, and he looked at me quietly for a long time, his eyes lost in mine, and mine in his. He leaned forward, kissing me gently, and I shifted as he pulled me to him, his kissed deepening and becoming more aggressive; he wanted to lose himself, and I let him lose himself in me, if that was his wish. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my hands running through his hair as he held my body against his, our hearts pounding as we fell, lying on the bed in each other's arms.

Alistair closed his eyes, resting his head against my heart as I held him, and he spoke, his voice quiet. "You know, I've been thinking…" he murmured, shifting back slightly to look at me.

"What have you been thinking about?" I asked gently as he ran a hand through my hair, the red strands dark burgundy in the pale light of the moon that streamed through the window.

"Back when we left Goldanna's, you told me I needed to look out for myself more than I do," he began. "I'm beginning to think you were right. I need to stop letting everyone else make my decisions for me. I need to take a stand and think about myself for a change, or I'm never going to be happy," Alistair sighed, and I frowned, placing a hand on his cheek.

"I'm…glad you were thinking about this, but don't let _me_ influence you, Alistair," I said, and he shook his head as he propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at me.

"No, what you said made sense. You were right. I should be looking out for myself more. Or…did I not understand you?" he asked.

"No, you understood right, but you don't have to do what I say," I replied, and he gave the tiniest of smiles, the sadness and uncertainty receding slightly.

"I don't _have_ to do it; I want to. What you said made sense. I should have done this a long time ago," Alistair said, leaning over me and kissing me again. "I just wanted to thank you. Being with you is the one bright spot out of everything that's happened," he murmured gently, and I smiled warmly up at him.

"I feel the same way," I whispered. We shifted into a more comfortable position, where our legs weren't hanging off the bed, and I held Alistair as he wrapped his arms tightly around me, nuzzling into the crook of my neck, as if he were afraid I would vanish. _I love you, Alistair. You know that, right?_ I thought with a soft smile, pressing a gentle kiss into his hair as he let out a long sigh, drifting off to sleep.

oOo

Morrigan sat by the fire, writing in her notebook as she analyzed the composition of a spirit shard, sensing the mana flowing through it and thinking of ways to incorporate it into a piece of jewelry; she could use the properties to enhance the spells she knew that would affect the mind. She glanced up as she noticed Oghren watching, not even bothering to disguise her look of disdain.

"I swear. The things I could do to you…" the Dwarf muttered, and Morrigan clucked her tongue, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Ugh. It is _leering_ at me once again…" she groaned with disgust, and Oghren blinked, realizing that she had heard him.

"Oh. Did I say that out loud?" the Dwarf asked, and Morrigan muttered something under her breath, shaking her head and watching as Oghren walked over to his pack, shooing Olan away as the dog sniffed at it curiously.

"That is a most offensive odor," Morrigan remarked, and Oghren scowled at her.

"And you're looking at me?" the Dwarf asked, insulted.

"Should I be looking elsewhere? Have you forgotten about the fish you stored in your backpack, perhaps?" Morrigan reminded him.

"I was saving it. Won't be ready for the lye for at least another day," Oghren argued.

"Even the Chasind did not have such disgusting habits, and _they_ consume the flesh of the _dead_ ," Morrigan observed.

"Fine, fine, I'll soak it in the lye now. Have it your way, Miss Squeamish," Oghren snorted, picking up his pack and heading down the hall to his room, Olan following along in the hopes of getting a bit of fish.

"That's not what I…no, never mind. Just…get it over with. Quickly," the witch grumbled, shaking her head in disgust. She continued analyzing the spirit shard, making note of a slight impurity in the stone before glancing up, seeing Wynne approach. _Ah, the preachy school-mistress comes to give another lecture, perhaps?_ Morrigan thought, not impressed in the least. She didn't like Wynne much – the old woman lectured and rambled about justice and goodness and kindness, and it wore on Morrigan's nerves when the elder mage tried to 'impart wisdom' upon her.

"Morrigan–" Wynne began, and the young witch looked up at her expectantly.

"Yes, yes, I know, justice, propriety, goodness and whatnot. If you wish to lecture someone about reforming their 'evil ways', find Jowan. I am busy," Morrigan interrupted her, and Wynne crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes slightly at the haughty girl.

"That is not what I was going to say. I would like to talk…about Adeline," Wynne explained. Her hushed, slightly worried tone caught Morrigan's interest, and the young woman glanced up once more as Wynne sat down on a chair across from her.

"Oh? Is there something the matter with our leader?" Morrigan asked, and the old woman glanced down towards the hall, where she had seen Adeline go earlier.

"Have you noticed anything…odd about her?" Wynne murmured, and Morrigan raised an eyebrow.

"I did not expect you to be one for gossip," Morrigan admitted, and Wynne suppressed a snort. "Is there something in particular that I should recognize as 'odd', as you say?" she added, and Wynne glanced around the room – the only other people present were Sten and Zevran, who were inspecting their gear and experimenting with poisons, respectively.

"Is…is Adeline a mage?" Wynne asked softly. She had expected Morrigan to laugh, and to ask what had put this absurd notion into her head, but the witch only looked at her thoughtfully.

"…not that I can tell. However, she does seem…more sensitive to magic than a non-mage would be. Even more so than Alistair," Morrigan replied, and Wynne nodded.

"Yes, I noticed that back in the tower. And what Uldred said bothers me…" Wynne added, trailing off as she looking into the fire.

"Uldred is the mage that caused the abominations to be released?" Morrigan asked, and Wynne nodded. "Adeline did not tell me much of your confrontation with him. She still does not speak of what happened, but I see fear in her eyes at the mention of it – I assumed it was quite unpleasant," Morrigan admitted.

"It was. He…tried to turn her into an abomination, I believe," Wynne explained, and Morrigan's eyes widened slightly.

"Truly? But she is not a mage…unless she has found a way to conceal her mana? Mother has learned to do this, but it is a skill developed over centuries of practice…" Morrigan murmured, lost in thought. Flemeth had learned over time to cover traces of her magic – that was the reason that they were not constantly battling Templars coming to investigate such a powerful dark energy. However, Morrigan recalled that while Alistair hadn't seemed to realize how powerful Flemeth had been at their first encounter – or at least hadn't reacted – Adeline had barely managed to cover her look of terror. _Despite Mother keeping her power hidden, she could still sense it – her fear was not based on superstition, like that fool archer they had with them,_ Morrigan concluded.

"I have spoken to the spirit within me, and asked it of this," Wynne continued, and Morrigan pursed her lips, waiting. "The spirit told me that…Adeline is a demon. A desire demon, precisely." Morrigan was silent – she was at a loss for words for the first time in a long time. "Uldred, or rather, the abomination that he had become, called her 'little sister' when we confronted him, and said that she hadn't 'woken up' yet. I believe…that perhaps there is a demon lying dormant inside of her, and from Uldred's words, it has been there for a long time – maybe for her entire life," Wynne shared her thoughts, and Morrigan looked down at the spirit shard still in her fingers, turning it over slowly as she contemplated Wynne's words.

"Perhaps…your theory is not without grounds," the witch murmured. "She walks the Fade as mages do…but when I encountered her there, it felt…different. Not like meeting another mage, but like meeting a spirit…and yet _not_ a spirit," Morrigan recalled. "And the fact that she is very sensitive to magic…"

"When we were trapped in the Fade, I noticed that as well. And the Sloth demon that we encountered…it was keeping her out of the battle for a reason. I believe that it was afraid of her," Wynne remarked. "I would ask her about this, but it seems that she herself is not aware of it," she added, and Morrigan crossed her arms, leaning back in the chair and nodding slightly.

"That is true…" the witch closed her eyes for a moment before glancing back at the elderly mage. "Do you plan to do something about this?" she asked, and Wynne was quiet for a long time, looking at the fire.

"I…am not certain that I want to. If a demon sleeps within her, but remains dormant, I do not wish to wake it. However…the fact that it remains, and that it could potentially wake could cause trouble for us later. I will seek her out, in the Fade when we sleep, and I will see what I can learn," Wynne murmured, and Morrigan looked at her quietly for a few moments before nodding.

"As will I. You have piqued my curiosity in this matter," the witch admitted. "Have you told Jowan of this? A blood mage would be able to sense a demon in her far more easily than you or I," she added, and Wynne shook her head.

"No," she replied. "The fewer people who know of this, the better."

"Hmm…so be it," Morrigan relented.

oooo

The mages looked around at the green alien sky, watching the floating islands and seeing the twisting structures of the Fade as they rose above their heads. "None of these structures has ever been fascinating in the least," Morrigan scoffed, and Wynne tried not to roll her eyes at the arrogant young woman. In their dreaming states, the two could not confront a demon, should they meet one, but they could subtly influence portions of the Fade – seeking Adeline's dream out would not prove much trouble, even _without_ blood magic.

"Ah, here it is…" Wynne said, sensing Adeline's presence. They walked into the dream as the air shimmered around them, thick with raw mana, and they glanced around; they were in a small house with bare, drab walls, dimly lit by a few candles and a fire in the hearth. Adeline stood nearby, in front of the fireplace, wearing a flowing white garment as a red-haired Elf girl a few years younger than her walked around her, adjusting the dress with pins from a small box on the nearby table.

"Ugh, honestly Shianni, I can't believe I'm doing this," Adeline complained, and the girl, Shianni, giggled, shaking her head.

"What? It'll be fun!" she laughed, and Adeline rolled her eyes.

"I don't see the point in getting _married,_ that's all," Adeline replied, and Morrigan and Wynne glanced at one another curiously.

"Well too bad – the date's been set, and everyone in the Alienage knows already. They'll be sorely disappointed if you try to run," Shianni said teasingly.

"Huh, disappointed that they don't get to drink themselves into a _stupor_ , more like," the older girl replied sourly. " _Ow!_ " she complained as Shianni picked up some cloth with a pin.

"Sorry," Shianni replied, not sounding sorry at all.

"You did that on _purpose,_ " Adeline muttered, glowering at her.

"Oh come _on,_ cousin; there's no need to worry. I'm sure he'll like you," Shianni argued.

"Oh, sure. I'll charm him with my winning personality," Adeline grumbled sarcastically, crossing her arms and flinching as she stuck herself with pins.

"I believe that we've stumbled onto a memory," Morrigan remarked, walking up to Adeline and sticking her arm out. It phased through the image as if it weren't even there…or rather, as if _she_ weren't even there.

"Then Adeline herself is still deeper in the Fade. But perhaps…we may find the answers we seek in her memories?" Wynne asked, glancing at Morrigan. The girl seemed slightly amused by her proposal, although she did not argue against it.

They passed through the memory, walking down a narrow valley of the Fade and moving into a different memory, sensing that something was wrong the moment they entered it. They were back in the same house, although it was slightly more decorated, and the walls looked more white than pale brown. The furniture also looked newer, and as the mages looked around, they spotted Adeline.

She was much younger, only a child, her eyes filled with tears as she stared up at the coffin that sat on the table. Older Elves stood around the room wearing black – mourning clothes – and Wynne and Morrigan looked into the coffin as it lay open, spotting a dark-skinned Elf woman lying inside. _Her mother, perhaps,_ Wynne concluded, watching as Adeline walked up to the coffin, murmuring something weakly and looking up at an older Elf man, who had a blank look on his face.

"Perhaps…we should not intrude," Morrigan murmured, and Wynne nodded slightly, the two heading through the memory and back to the Fade. They continued on to the next memory, entering the same house once more. Wynne smiled slightly – Adeline was a tiny infant, held in her mother's arms. The girl had bright green eyes that looked up at her parents with curiosity, and the dark-skinned Elf woman murmured softly to the child, looking at her husband and smiling.

"She is something special…" the woman murmured, and the man nodded slightly.

"Indeed she is, Adaia; she'll be just like you. I can feel it," he replied.

"Wait…" Wynne murmured, perplexed, "there is another memory."

"What?" Morrigan asked, also surprised. "How can that be? She…cannot remember the _womb_."

"Oh good heavens, I hope not," Wynne replied. She was intrigued now – she walked cautiously through the memory and into the next, Morrigan close behind.

They came to…the Fade. They were on an island in the Fade, and all around them, they could hear singing, recognizing it as Adeline's voice. The voice paused, and Wynne and Morrigan walked around the corner of a hall, stopping as they saw a scene before them; the dark-skinned Elf woman they had seen earlier – Adeline's mother – was standing in a clearing with a demon.

The desire demon seemed different from the others – it had flaming 'hair' that burned red, instead of lavender, and it had dressed itself slightly more modestly than the demons they had seen before, with a sash around its breasts, and flowing ribbons hanging along its waist. Its eyes were green and shone like emeralds, and it laughed, floating around Adeline's mother in a circle before landing lightly, looking her over.

"And what would I receive from you in return for this?" the demon asked, and the two mages jumped – the demon was speaking in Adeline's voice, but it had a lilting, seductive quality to it, much like the other desire demons they had encountered, with a second, throatier voice vibrating quietly underneath.

"I admit, I have…little to offer," Adaia said guiltily, and the demon ran a hand idly over one of her curled horns, the curved structure decorated with small rings. Her barbed tail swung lazily behind her, the tip flicking back and forth like a cat's when it spotted prey.

"Perchance… _I_ might make an offer," the demon began, and Wynne stiffened at her words. "I allow you to give birth…and in return, I might experience the world of the living."

Adaia stared at the demon incredulously. "I…I will not allow you to possess my child!" the woman gasped, and the demon laughed, shaking her head.

"No. That is not what I mean," she corrected, holding up a long, clawed finger for the Elf to listen. "I will not _possess_ the child. I will _be_ the child. There will be no loss of life, no destruction of your Maker's creation, if I enter the child when it is conceived," the demon explained. When Adaia still looked doubtful, the demon smiled, flashing a pair of white fangs. "Here is our situation, my dear. You want a child, but are unable to bear one. I want to be mortal…without battling over a mortal form already in use by another. I do _so_ detest harming mortals," the demon sighed.

"…but…but what will I tell Cyrion? That I have birthed a demon?" Adaia asked, and the demon rolled its eyes.

"I will make it so that neither of us has any memory of this. You will have your child without any knowledge of my part in its conception, and I will be born in a mortal form, and live as you raise me," the demon replied.

"I…understand, but why _do_ you want to enter the mortal world? Are you not a powerful demon? Why lose all of this to be born as an Elf?" Adaia asked, more curious now than worried.

"I wish to experience what being a mortal is like. I wish to have hopes and dreams, fears and worries. I wish to meet others and not constantly battle for territory. To experience true emotions – be happy, fall in love," the demon sounded almost wistful as it spoke, with longing in its eyes. "Who wants to be immortal if there is nothing to do but remain stagnant? I find it very… _undesireable_ ," the demon argued.

Wynne and Morrigan looked at one another oddly – they had never heard of something like this happening before. Demons _did_ wish to experience the mortal plane through a mortal's eyes, they knew that was true, but they had never seen a situation quite like this.

"My child…will they be a mage?" Adaia asked, and the demon shook its head.

"Ah, no. I know of the trials that many mages are put through, and I would rather not risk the Templars discovering me. Your child will be normal, as far as I know," the demon replied.

"I…then I…accept your offer," Adaia said, holding out her hand. The demon took it, shaking the Elf's hand and smiling back at her. "Should I have a daughter…"

"You will. I have chosen the gender, and what I will look like," the demon interjected, and Adaia raised an eyebrow. "My name is Adeline, by the way. I'd prefer it to stay that way, so…" the demon, 'Adeline', reached out a hand and lightly touched the center of Adaia's head with a finger, nodding slightly. "It sounds close enough to your own name that your husband will name the child after you. Now go, and take care," Adeline said, and Adaia's form faded away.

"I…I don't quite understand what just happened. Not completely," Wynne admitted, and Morrigan nodded, staring at the demon with wide eyes. It walked slowly in a small circle, chewing on its lower lip and seeming…nervous, almost.

"But…the demon has the same mannerisms, and the same voice…even the _appearance_ is similar," Morrigan replied. The demon paused suddenly, as if it had heard them, and it looked right at the two women, its large, emerald-green eyes staring at them.

"Oh?" the demon murmured, cocking its head. Wynne's heart leapt into her throat, and she quickly glanced behind her, breathing a sigh of relief – the demon was looking at something behind her and Morrigan, off in the distance. _Of_ _ **course**_ _it can't see us. This is a memory, after all,_ Wynne though, chiding herself slightly for panicking. "Ah, it seems that there is a disturbance in the Fade. Good thing I'll be gone before the storm hits," the demon murmured to itself, the long, scaled tail waving slowly back and forth as it walked around. The memory faded around them, and Wynne and Morrigan saw their own forms fading as they began to wake up.

oOo

I blinked my eyes open as I felt the warm sunlight on my face, yawning quietly and feeling a weight on my chest. I had slept in Alistair's room, wrapped in his arms – he had fallen asleep with his head resting on my shoulder, and my arm around his neck, and I hadn't had the heart to disturb him. I smiled softly – he looked peaceful – and I gently ran my fingers over the soft hairs along the nape of his neck. At my touch, his breathing quickened slightly, and he drew in a long breath, smiling a bit as he drifted back to sleep, shifting so that he was resting his head on my chest.

"Alistair," I whispered, and he stirred again. "Wake up, love, the sun's up," I murmured. He let out a soft moan, nuzzling against me, and I chucked.

"…no…" he grumbled groggily, "…you're comfy…" and he wrapped his arms tighter around me, burying his face in my neck.

"Alistair," I repeated, and he mumbled against my skin. I turned a bit, sliding his head off my chest and kissing him gently, tickling his chin with a few strands of my hair

"Ugh…alright, alright…I'm up," he groaned, gently swatting at my dangling hair, grabbing my hand and placing it on his cheek.

"Hm…good morning, dear," I chuckled softly, scratching his stubbled cheek and watching him as his eyes fluttered open. He seemed pleasantly surprised – almost relieved – to find me here, and a strange look came over him for a moment before he propped himself up on his elbow, kissing my forehead in greeting.

"Morning, beautiful," he replied, slowly sitting up. "Hm. We slept in our clothes," Alistair remarked, and I looked up at him as I settled back in the pillows, perfectly content to lie there and watch him as the sunlight painted itself across his features.

"Would you have preferred it otherwise?" I asked teasingly, and Alistair glanced back at me, a crooked smile on his lips as he leaned over, running his thumb over my cheek.

"…maybe," he admitted, and I chuckled softly as he kissed me again, sitting up as he helped me to my feet.

"Careful Alistair," I said, straightening my clothes as we headed for the door, "I might just hold you to that." He smirked as I gave him a saucy wink, and he pinched my cheek affectionately.

We headed downstairs, joining the others for breakfast, and Neria gave us a coy look. "Don't get excited. Nothing happened," I muttered under my breath as I sat next to her, and she smiled sweetly at me.

"Whatever do you mean?" she teased, and I rolled my eyes. Leliana seemed to be doing better – probably a good night's rest had calmed her heart, but I decided not to bring the subject up; she still needed some time to deal with it, no doubt.

"So, we will be looking for this Brother Genitivi today?" Zevran asked, and I nodded, pulling the address out of my journal.

"Mmm-hm…supposedly his apartment is right across the street from the Gnawed Noble," I replied, chewing on a piece of bread with some jam. I glanced over as I noticed both Morrigan and Wynne giving me strange looks, and I raised an eyebrow. Once they noticed me watching, though, they looked hurriedly away. _Huh…that's weird,_ I thought, wondering what was wrong. "Let's see… I don't want the man to think we're threatening him…so how about Alistair, Zevran and Wynne come with me, while everyone else gets ready to go," I said, and the others nodded.

oooo

"Don't you want to stop by the Alienage?" Alistair asked me, once we were outside and heading down the street.

"It's closed," I replied, and he raised an eyebrow. "Something happened, and the place has been quartered off until further notice. I'm just…hoping for the best. Or at least not the worst," I sighed, trying not to look too worried. "Anyhow, we've got more important things to worry about than a bit of homesickness," I added quickly, continuing down the street. He didn't seem convinced by my words, but he didn't press me about it.

We made our way past the large central tent in the market, and the 'Gnawed Noble' tavern, following the address for Brother Genitivi's apartment. I knocked on the door, and it swung open – evidently it hadn't been closed all the way. _Maker's breath, doesn't anyone close their doors properly around here?_ I thought with a soft snort, trying not to shake my head in exasperation.

The inside of the apartment was messy, with a long table in the center stacked with books and scrolls, and a warm fire crackling in the hearth. "Hello?" I asked timidly, stepping inside and glancing around. I thought I could smell a faint trace of rotting flesh in the air, covered by the heavy scent of cloves, and my heartbeat quickened as I tensed, anticipating walking in on the scene of a day-old murder.

"Yes? What are you doing here?" someone replied, and I glanced over. There was a man standing nearby, sorting books, with dark hair and bushy eyebrows. He was watching us warily, noting that we were armed.

"The uh…door was open," I said, acutely aware of how pathetic that sounded. "Please pardon the intrusion. We're looking for Brother Genitivi. Would that be you?" I added, and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Brother Genitivi? Why?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"I would like to speak to him about his research," I explained, the man blinked in surprise.

"His research? Ah, you mean his search for Andraste's Ashes," the man murmured. "He was on the trail of the Urn of Sacred Ashes, yes. Whether he found it…the Maker only knows," he sighed. "Ah, forgive me, I am Weylon, Brother Genitivi's assistant," Weylon introduced himself.

"You may call me Lin," I replied, giving a slight nod; I didn't quite trust this man, and the overwhelming scent of cloves was worrying me. _For all I know he could have murdered Brother Genitivi and is trying to cover it up,_ I thought suspiciously, trying to keep my expression level – we used cloves around the Alienage sometimes when we found dead bodies, trying to stifle the scent while we prepared them for the pyre.

"I haven't seen Brother Genitivi in weeks. He's sent no word; it's so unlike him," Weylon sighed, his voice worried. "I am afraid something has happened. Genitivi's research into the Urn may have led him into danger."

"Perhaps he has found the Urn, and is studying it?" I suggested, hoping our efforts wouldn't be in vain.

"Then why has he not returned or sent a message?" Weylon asked, distress in his tone. "I-I tried to send help, but some knights came from Redcliffe looking for him not long ago. I sent them after Genitivi and they too have disappeared."

"Well _that's_ not good. Where did they go?" Alistair asked, and the man began to panic, shaking his head.

"No, don't ask me where they went. You'll go after them, and what if ill-luck should befall you, too? This search is a curse, on all of us. Some things are not meant to be found. I know that now," Weylon said firmly, and I sighed, trying to reason with the distraught man.

"Please, Weylon, we _need_ to find the Urn. Doing so will save many," I argued, and he looked at the determination in my eyes. He gave a sigh, nodding as he relented.

"So be it. All he said before he left was that he would be staying at an inn near Lake Calenhad, investigating something in that area," he explained, and I tried not to let out a groan. _Why is Ferelden so_ _ **big**_ , I thought, my body already aching at the thought of so much traveling.

"Do you know what he was investigating?" I inquired, and the man shook his head.

"I don't know. All I discovered from going through his research was that he was staying at the inn," he replied. _Wait, wait…what was that?_ I thought, catching the inconsistency in his story.

"Wait…but you _just_ said that he spoke to you and told you that," Alistair said suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at the man's inconsistent story – the others had caught it too, it seemed.

"Y-yes, of course he told me, but I also went through his things to see if I could find other clues to his whereabouts," Weylon said quickly, fumbling over his words.

"You sound nervous. Are you hiding something?" Wynne asked, and a tiny nerve began to pulsate on Weylon's neck, his breathing picking up slightly.

"That's n-not true. I told you everything I know. Brother Genitivi told us – t-told _me_ about the inn and that's all!" he stuttered, and I crossed my arms.

"Us?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. _Caught you._

"Us? I mean me. T-there is no us…" he trailed off, sighing, and he glared at me, his jaw stiffening. "bah! Why do I keep up this charade?" he growled. "I gave you a chance to turn aside and forget you ever heard of Genitivi and the Urn. But you persisted. Now it has come to this… Andraste forgive me. I do this in Your Name," he said, raising his hands.

A bolt of electricity shot from his palm, and I was thrown backwards, pain jolting through my body. I lay twitching on the floor, muscles spasming as Alistair and Zevran leapt at the man, taking him down before he could cast any more spells. "Adeline!" Wynne cried, kneeling by my side as I twitched, my eyes dilating as I struggled to breathe. The pain slowly settled down, and I let out a soft breath, my body relaxing.

"I…I think I'm good," I sighed, my body still weak and tingling from the electricity. Wynne knelt by my side as I recovered, and Zevran and Alistair searched through the apartment, picking the lock on a small door in the back and finding the body of the _real_ Weylon – covered in a layer of crushed cloves to cover the smell – as well as a research journal which told us where Brother Genitivi had gone. It was a place called 'Haven', a small, secluded village hidden away in the Frostback Mountains.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Alistair asked, helping me to my feet, and I nodded, letting out a long breath as I rolled my shoulders.

"Yes. I'm not really hurt – it's just hard to control my muscles," I replied, placing a hand over my heart. "Maker's breath, I'm lucky this didn't melt a hole in my skin," I added with a soft sigh, tugging out the leather loop with the pair of rings on it, feeling heat coming off of the gold bands. There was a small burn mark on my chest, and Wynne applied a salve to cool the irritated skin as Alistair looked over Brother Genitivi's notes.

"Let's see…the only mentions of 'Haven' are in this letter, and on this part of a map," Alistair remarked, placing a hand on his chin. "Seems like Brother Genitivi stumbled onto the place quite by accident – the date on the letter tells us that this was the last note before he went missing," he added, and I bit my lip.

"Well, if the 'warm welcome' we received here is any indication, we'll probably run into trouble in this 'Haven'. Maybe we _should_ go investigate near Lake Calenhad, though – we might find more clues about what happened to Brother Genitivi," I reasoned, and the others agreed. "And what do you mean _part_ of a map?" I added, and Alistair handed it to me; it was a piece of a map that had been torn off, showing the location of 'Haven'. It looked to be a few days southwest of Redcliffe.

oOo

Morrigan was outside of the inn, sitting in the back of the wagon and observing people on the street as they walked by. _Such strange creatures, these people,_ the dark-haired woman thought, _and an even stranger one approaches._ She narrowed her eyes slightly as she watched Oghren come out of the inn, carrying his heavy pack in one arm and his axe in the other, glowering at Olan as the dog barked excitedly, watching for an opportunity to bother the Dwarf.

Oghren tossed his bag into the back of the cart and looked up at Morrigan, stroking his chin and seeming to think of something. "Hmmm. So you can turn into animals, aye? Like cats and wolves?" the Dwarf asked, and Morrigan made a point not to look at him, knowing that there was one of two ways this conversation would go, neither of which she wanted to hear.

"When the desire strikes me," she replied, wondering why she had even bothered answering.

"Have you ever…you know. 'When in Tevinter…'?" Oghren asked with a chuckle, and Morrigan raised an eyebrow, still not looking at the Dwarf.

"That's a most curious little mind you have, Dwarf. And what if I had? Would that thought comfort you during your lonely nights?" she replied.

"Hmmm. Have you ever changed _during_ …" _A_ _nd the conversation went both ways. Marvelous,_ she thought with chagrin.

"Why are you suddenly asking me this?" Morrigan brushed him off, slightly annoyed, and Oghren swatted Olan away from his hip flask, crossing his arms and looking up at the witch.

"How do we know you're truly a woman? Or even human! You could be a chip mouse…or a _nug!_ Ha! Imagine that!" Oghren laughed, and Morrigan rolled her eyes.

"Why, yes. I am actually a nug in human form. I have come to observe your kind," she snorted, and Oghren stroked his beard.

"Huh. Nugs are good with extra sauce. I'm just saying," the Dwarf said, climbing into the back of the cart and taking a drink from his flask, leaning against a box. He glanced down as he heard a faint clinking sound from the crate, raising an eyebrow. "Hmm, what's this?" he asked Morrigan, tapping the lid of the container. Morrigan glanced over, cocking her head as she tried to remember.

"Ah. That is Adeline's," she remarked, recalling the armor. "A set of Dwarven armor, if I recall correctly," she added. Oghren looked genuinely surprised, lifting the lid of the box and finding that, indeed, it was a set of beautifully crafted Dwarven armor – it had never seen battle, by the looks of it, and he whistled appreciatively.

"Now what the sod is an Elf rogue doing with a set of heavy Dwarven plate? She barely wears armor over her clothing to begin with!" Oghren exclaimed, confused.

"I believe she intended to present it to the Dwarf King. The previous one," Morrigan replied, glowering at Olan as he stood on his hind legs, putting his forepaws against the side of the wagon and whining at her. "Stop looking at me, mongrel. I have nothing you want," the woman said sharply, and Olan barked happily at the attention, his tail wagging as he gave another plaintive whine.

"Why do you keep staring at me so, you flea-ridden beast! Can you not tell when you are not wanted?" Olan gave a persistent whine, and Morrigan rolled her eyes. "I enjoy the company of creatures of the _wild_. Not stench-ridden, domesticated wolves," she said, and Olan whined again, looking up at her with watery eyes. "And he persists! Maddening!" Morrigan huffed, shaking her head, and Olan barked happily.

Leliana came out of the inn a little while later with her things, placing them in the back of the wagon and putting Schmooples inside, the nug snorting and squealing softly as it snuffled around the cart. She glanced over as Oghren let out a long sigh, and she rested her chin on her arm as she propped her elbow up against one of the wheels. "Is something the matter? Are you…are you thinking about Branka?" Leliana asked, and Oghren raised an eyebrow, looking at the red-haired girl.

"Branka–?" he asked, seeming confused.

"You loved her, didn't you? I've seen you, some nights, staring off into the distance with such sadness in your eyes," Leliana continued, unperturbed. "You wonder if you did something that drove her away; you wonder if she would have stayed if you had done things differently. She must have loved you, somewhere inside…" Leliana said, and Oghren snorted.

"That sodding great dew-licker had a heart clad in iron. She had only one love – the Anvil. And later, the Anvil," he replied. "Only sighed because I was gassy, and finally let off a good one," he added, taking a breath. "Should be hitting you right about now," he said with a laugh. "Silent killer, eh?" Leliana made a face and coughed, shaking her head and waving her hand around, grabbing Schmooples and retreating back into the inn. Morrigan turned around and hopped down from the cart, storming off and muttering 'filthy creature' under her breath.

Oghren chuckled, shaking his head and taking a long draught from his flask, nodding towards Olan. "Don't give me that look, dog. You're about one lifted-leg away from becoming a new pair of boots," the Dwarf said as Olan cocked his head inquisitively.

oOo

By the time we returned to the inn and started packing our things, the weather took a turn, and it started rain. "Ugh, you're _joking!_ " I exclaimed impatiently, shaking my head as we unloaded the cart and went back to the inn. It was a heavy fall storm, the windows shuddering with the force of the wind, and a pair shutters clapping against the side of the inn as the latch came loose. The occasional ' _ba-bang!'_ startled me as I sat at a table downstairs, trying to go over our plans.

Katja was sitting at another table, talking with Zevran about types of grenades and different traps the two were working on, and I watched Neria stroll over listening curiously to the two, intrigued by the ice, fire and lightning grenades that Katja had on the table. Jowan and Morrigan were examining a vial of what I assumed was darkspawn blood, and Wynne was knitting by the fire with Olan and Schmooples lying nearby, the nug resting its head on Olan's paws as the mabari nuzzled the creature's ears. Sten was meditating in the corner – or at least trying to – while Oghren was telling ribald stories to Alistair and the barkeep.

As it grew late, I headed upstairs, spotting Leliana standing by a window at the end of the dark hall, her silhouette cast against the glass as lightning illuminated the sky for a moment, followed by the rumble of distant thunder and the howl of the wind. "Oh, hello…is there something you wanted to talk about?" she asked, turning as she heard my approach.

"No, but I thought you might want to talk," I replied gently, and Leliana glanced at the floor before returning her attention to the window, her face cast in faint blue light and shadow, her hair a deep auburn in the darkness.

"It's…it's nothing. I'm fine. I'm just thinking," she sighed, watching the rain dripping down the glass pane.

"What about?" I asked softly, although I was sure I already knew. Leliana closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

"I can't get what happened out of my head. I'd been in Lothering for years and she _still_ thought I was plotting against her," Leliana began, her eyes hooded as she opened them a fraction, looking down at the wet streets below. "She didn't trust me…maybe she never did. She loved me when she could use me and control me, and now that she can't, she wants me dead." She bit her lip, shaking her head slightly as she placed a hand on the glass, the warmth from her fingers making the glass fog over slightly. "It…it hurts to realize that I never really knew her," she murmured, and I took a small step forward, reaching out a hand and lightly touching her elbow.

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked, and Leliana glanced back at me, shaking her head slightly, her eyes downcast.

"You are already helping so much by listening to me. I knew she was ruthless, but I didn't know how far she could go. She is self-serving, cruel…she uses people, then discards them, but that's how she survives in the life she leads," Leliana explained, knowing these truths. It was not this that was troubling her – I could tell that there was something deeper that was bothering her, clawing at her mind. "W-what if she's right. What if we're the same? I…I should just have stayed in the Chantry," Leliana sighed hopelessly, and I looked at her, moving closer so that I stood beside her, by the window.

"But you said the Maker wanted you to leave," I urged, hoping that bringing up her vision might help. I could see that she was battling within herself – cloistered sister against bard.

"I could have been wrong about the Maker!" Leliana exclaimed, her eyes distraught. "I…I know you doubt me sometimes. Maybe…you're right! Maybe…maybe I just tell myself He's there to console myself. To know there's someone watching out for me, to know I'm not alone!" she said, her voice rising as she became hysterical.

"You're not alone, Leliana," I assured her. I placed a hand gently on her shoulder, steadying her, and Leliana calmed down, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

"But I was…" Leliana murmured. "I was alone and desperate when I fled to Ferelden. I went to the only place I knew would take me. I forgot my life as a bard while I was in the cloister. I felt safe – I didn't have to watch my back all the time," she sighed, running a hand over her forehead and looking back at me. "That's what made Marjolaine the person she is, don't you see? It ruined her; it will ruin me too. It's…already happened," Leliana said, her eyes misting over. "When we killed her I…I enjoyed it. Seeing her dead gave me satisfaction," she whispered, her expression distant.

"She did you a great injustice," I argued softly, and Leliana shook her head.

"But that is no reason to rejoice over her death. That is what _she_ would do. I don't want that. What we're doing…what we've done – hunted men down, killed them – part of me loves it. It invigorates me and this scares me. I…I feel myself slipping…" Leliana shut her eyes, shaking her head slowly, as if she couldn't believe what she was saying.

"You're not slipping. This is who you are," I said in a slightly louder voice, my tone firm. Leliana opened her eyes, looking at me and holding my gaze for a long time before speaking again.

"I admit that I took great pleasure in the intrigue back in Orlais. It was dangerous and chaotic…and exciting, but it destroyed my life. I thought the Chantry showed me another path. I thought I was done with this life…am I wrong?" she asked, and I slid my hand down from her shoulder, taking her fingers and giving them a tight squeeze.

"You're not a Chantry sister, Leliana. You never were. You are a bard – a spy." My voice was steady and strong, and I saw Leliana's shoulders relax slightly, a look of acceptance slowly creeping over her features – it was like watching iron become steel.

"There is this thought that floats into my mind constantly – that I lie when I say the Chantry gave me peace when in truth it…it bored me," Leliana admitted, her voice growing steadier as she regained control of her emotions, calming down. "Here, with you…knowing the freedom of the road and the uncertainty of tomorrow…I feel alive again."

"Then stop running scared from it," I said with a reassuring smile, and Leliana smiled back, taking a long, cleansing breath and nodding gratefully.

"I would like to be alone, for now. I have many things to consider. Thank you, for listening to me," she said, gripping my hands tightly for a moment before walking down the hall, returning to her room. I went to my room as well, and as I watched the rain sliding down the window pane, an idea came to my head. Admittedly, it was probably foolish and reckless…but so were most of my _other_ ideas.

I rummaged through my bag, pulling on the darkest clothes that I had and wrapping myself in a black cloak, carrying only my red-steel blade and a few throwing knives; my saber would only slow me down. I unlatched the window, feeling the rush of the cold, autumn storm, and I slipped out to the rooftop, closing the window and shutters behind me.

oooo

I leapt from rooftop to rooftop, traveling across the city as I had so long ago, flying like a giant crow over the gaps between buildings, my cloak like ragged black wings. I was invisible; a flash of lightning left only a sudden dark spot – the ghostly afterimage of a wraith that haunted the city. My destination was clear before me – the upper districts of the city, and from there, the Royal Palace.

The rain and shadows hid me from the eyes of the palace guards, and I slipped over the wall after a few tense minutes of watching, waiting until I memorized the pattern of the patrol. Over the wall, through the courtyard, now ducking behind the kennels as the dogs slept, now up on the roof of the stables, scaling the palace walls as I clung to the decorative trellises and small holes and gaps in the ancient bricks. Queen Anora's room, the smell of perfume and decorative silk curtains lining the glass door to her balcony. I leapt from her balcony to the empty room next door, clambering up the side and reaching the next floor.

I ran the thin bit of hooked wire through the window, undoing the latch and letting it open outward, pulling myself onto the sill and sitting there in silence. The storm howled outside, and lightning lit up the sky, casting the silhouette of a black, cloaked form resting lightly on the windowsill. The room smelled faintly of drink, and I saw an empty bottle of whiskey on the desk, a second one partially drained. Teyrn Loghain lay in his bed in the pitch-dark room; his breathing was even, but I could tell that he wasn't asleep. He knew that I was there, and I remained still and silent, letting my disdain for the man flow outward, as if it were a physical force.

He sat up slowly in bed, looking at me, his eyes narrowed in the darkness as he tried to make out my face. The hood covered my features, and I watched the Teyrn slowly begin to move, sitting up and sliding out of bed, hand reaching for the knife that he no doubt kept under his pillow.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice soft in the harsh wind. I remained silent, flashing a wide, sharp-toothed grin from under the hood, a flash of lightning illuminating the sky and casting my dark silhouette in the window frame. Before he could say anything else, I let myself fall backwards out of the window, my hand catching lightly on the bottom of the trellis under sill, and I hung there, just out of sight. I heard him walk slowly to the window, knowing that he was leaning out over the sill and looking about.

Once I heard the window close above me, and the curtains were drawn tight, I dropped down onto the balcony below, flying down the side of the palace and back over the wall-top, vanishing into the dark alleyways of Denerim without a trace.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	36. Chapter 36: Light My Fire

Chapter 36

Light My Fire

Author's note:

Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! They really brighten up my day! I love hearing that you're enjoying the story so far, and I hope the thing with Adeline's identity isn't too out-there for you. Also, thank you to those who've followed and favorited so far :)

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"If we take the North Road, we should reach Lake Calenhad in about…three weeks, probably," I determined, tracing out the line on my map with a finger, tapping the small village near the Circle tower. "Checking near the Circle is probably the best bet for finding information," I added, loading my pack into the back of the wagon as I folded the map closed, tucking it into my journal. As I put my things away, I glanced down into the back of the cart, spotting a wooden crate. I opened the lid, finding a suit of Dwarven armor. "Ah. I completely forgot I had this," I remarked, looking at the armor.

"Whatcha lookin' at boss?" Oghren asked as he walked over, and I smiled slightly as I glanced at the Dwarf.

"Hmm…how would you like a new set of armor, Oghren?" I asked, and the Dwarf raised an eyebrow.

"Really?" he asked, and I nodded, opening the box and taking out a gauntlet, handing it to him to look at.

"Here. _I_ can't wear it, and it'll be going to waste otherwise. You're probably a better judge of Dwarven craft than me, but I think that's pretty well-made stuff," I added, and Oghren turned the gauntlet over slowly in his hands, nodding as he looked at it critically.

"Yes. Very finely made," he remarked, grinning at me. "So where'd you get a full set of heavy Dwarven armor?" he asked, slipping on the gauntlet to check the fit – the size seemed perfect.

"I got it from a smith in Redcliffe. I'm glad someone will get a use out of it," I said, heading around to the front of the cart and hopping into the driver's seat. We left the city without incident, and I angled us northeast, heading along the uppermost pathway, following the North Road.

"I noticed your excursion last night," Morrigan remarked softly, leaning over the back of the driver's seat so that only I could hear.

"Yes," I replied, equally as soft. "Someone needed the fear of the Maker put into them."

"Why not simply finish the job there and then?" she asked, and I shook my head slightly.

"If I did that, it would be nearly impossible to gain _anyone's_ support. People will never believe that we didn't kill the king if the Teyrn winds up dead one morning with his throat slit. It was tempting…but perhaps scaring him as I did will unsettle him. He's taken to drink – I saw a number of bottles on his desk," I remarked.

"Hmm…perhaps you are not as headstrong as I first assumed," Morrigan admitted, and I smiled charmingly at her.

"I'm full of surprises," I teased, and Morrigan smiled slightly.

"I have a wonder," Morrigan began after a while, and I glanced back at her, nodding to show that I had heard, "what is your opinion on demons?"

"Demons?" I raised an eyebrow. "Where'd _that_ come from?" I added with a small laugh. "Hmm…my opinion of demons?" I murmured, tapping my chin lightly. "Well they…try to possess people, right? They're creatures of the Fade that want to experience the mortal plane. That's…about all I know. I don't really _have_ a solid opinion of them. Is…is this about your mother?" I asked in a more hushed tone, and Morrigan's eyes widened in surprise.

"…no. This isn't about Flemeth," she replied, "although I can see how you would assume as such. Perhaps I should clarify," Morrigan continued. "What if there was such a demon that made a deal with a mortal, promising to give a barren woman a child, and in return be born _as_ that child," Morrigan said, and I looked at her oddly.

"I…what? Is that even possible? And what do you mean, born as the child? Wouldn't…wouldn't the child be possessed?" I asked in confusion. Morrigan looked at me quietly, nodding slightly, as if I had confirmed something.

"'Tis simply a theory. Perhaps in such an early stage, the demon would, in fact, _become_ the child, so that it is born in a mortal form. Demons are powerful spirits – there are many things that we mortals do not know," Morrigan said, and I shrugged.

"Just seems _weird_ is all. Why would a demon want to be born mortal anyway?" I asked. Something about the question seemed to amuse Morrigan, but when I asked, she just shook her head. "Uh…alright," I shrugged, more confused than when we had begun.

"Elf!" I heard Oghren suddenly shout behind me, and I turned back to look.

"Wait, why did I respond to that?" I muttered with a look of chagrin, vexed by the reflexive reaction. Neria saw my face and let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head.

"Oghren!" Zevran replied, assuming that it was he the Dwarf was referring to.

"I have something to say to you!" Oghren continued, still shouting.

"I am all ears, as we Elves like to say," Zevran replied, and I snorted, shaking my head. _Hah, wow. That's…pretty bad,_ I thought with a grin.

"I… Well, now I _forgot_ ," Oghren retorted grumpily, and Zevran smiled charmingly at him.

"Alas," he sighed dramatically.

"But just know I had _something_ ," Oghren insisted, and Zevran nodded sagely.

"You've had several somethings, I suspect. It's part of your charm," the Elf replied.

oooo

We traveled along the North Road, the weather more mild in the north of Ferelden, even in the fall. Tall grasses grew thick along the roadside, and Olan ran in and out of the brush happily, startling rabbits and small, grassland birds that lived nearby. Leliana had cheered up considerably in the past few days – she now sat in the back of the wagon, strumming a familiar tune on her lute, and she smiled as she saw the flash of recognition in my eyes.

"Ah, you know this one?" she asked, and I nodded. "Care to join me, then?" she added, and I laughed.

"Alright. I'll join in once you start," I replied, clearing my throat as she played the introduction.

"As time draws near, my dearest dear, when you and I must part… What little you know of the grace and awe of my poor aching heart," Leliana began, and I joined in on the next line.

"Each night I suffer for your sake, you're the one I love so dear; I wish that I could go with you, or you were staying here…"

"The blackest crow that ever flew would surely turn to white – if ever I prove false to you, bright day be turned to night…"

"Bright day be turned to night, my love, the elements will mourn – if ever I prove false to you, the seas will rage and burn…"

We were all in good humor for the rest of the day, and I hummed the song softly to myself as I kept watch that night, walking slowly around camp and watching the stars overhead. The weather had cleared considerably, and I was glad that the rainstorm the other day had passed by, moving south across the Bannorn and Brecilian instead of north, along the coasts.

I glanced over my shoulder as I heard someone come up behind me, turning around as Oghren approached. "There you are. Wanted to talk to you," the Dwarf said, and I nodded, indicating that I was listening as I kept my eyes on the nearby woods.

"What about?" I asked, and Oghren cleared his throat, looking as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't quite find the right words.

"You and I, we've… You know how sometimes, you spend time with…people, and things… Hm," he trailed off, and I glanced back at the Dwarf.

"Aw, I love you, too, Oghren," I teased, and his eyes widened slightly, a broad grin across his face as he crossed his arms.

"Ha! Well, I'll be shaved, skinned, and hung up to dry! It's too soon, though, lady, too soon. I just wanted to ask a favor," he replied, although he was still smiling.

"What would you like to ask?" I prompted, and Oghren shrugged.

"I was thinking, I _do_ know some people out here on the surface. A person, actually. Girl I knew in Orzammar. Before I left, obviously," he explained, and I raised an eyebrow. _A…girl? Huh,_ I thought, curiosity piqued.

"Who is she?" I asked.

"Her name's Felsi. She and I were…friends after Branka left for the Deep Roads. I'm sure she's forgiven me by now. Thought maybe I'd track her down. See how she's been living," Oghren replied, quickly brushing over the 'forgiven me' part. _Forgiven you for_ _ **what?**_ I wondered, although I supposed I probably shouldn't pry…maybe.

"So what do you mean, you were 'friends'?" I asked, though I thought I already knew. This _was_ Oghren, after all.

"Oh, we coiled the ol' rope, if you know what I mean. Oiled the mine shaft. Rubbed the foreman's elbow," Oghren said with a chuckle, and I snorted, crossing my arms.

"You're just making those up, aren't you?" I asked, smiling slightly.

"Should I show you? Alright, don't kill me," Oghren laughed as I lightly punched his arm, feigning anger. "Anyway, she left for the surface a year back, and I haven't seen her since."

"Why'd she leave?" I asked, and Oghren snorted.

"What? Why are you asking _me?_ _I_ didn't do anything," he assured me, and I rolled my eyes. _I didn't say anything like that,_ I thought. "I tried to look her up the last time we were at Lake Calenhad. She wasn't at work at the inn – at home with her sick mother, they said," he continued, unperturbed. "I figured it was just the ancestors telling me something…but I keep thinking about her."

"You know…I feel like there's something here you're not telling me about this," I remarked. His quick assumption that I thought he had done something was bothering me.

"Ach! You suspicious sack of pebbles! You always have to think the worst of someone," Oghren grumbled, and I looked at him, batting my eyelashes and looking hurt.

"And here I thought we were friends," I said in a weepy voice, trying to look tearful, and Oghren snorted, not buying it at all.

"Look. Felsi and me, we didn't leave things on the best of terms," he relented. "She was jealous of Branka. And she got to be controlling. And Oghren was meant to be free. Know what I mean? Anyway, she couldn't handle everyone wishing they could be with me. So she left. Honest truth," Oghren explained.

"I'll wait and hear _her_ version of this," I replied, sure that his perspective was…skewed, to say the least.

"Aye, well, you go ahead…wait, so we're going?" he asked, his eyes hopeful.

"Of course we're going. We'll find her for you – I promise," I assured him, and Oghren smiled up at me.

"Well and a good friend you are, Warden. I'll think about you if we ever… No, actually, that would be gross," he said, and I made a face as I realized what he was saying.

"Uh…yeah, please don't," I replied, smiling at the Dwarf. We were quiet for a little while, and I let out a small sigh, feeling a pang of guilt go through me as I thought of Oghren's situation. "About what happened with Branka…"

"Psh, Warden, I thought I told you I was fine," Oghren snorted, glancing up at me. "I think it's bothering _you_ more than it is me," he added, and I shrugged.

"I don't know, Oghren. You looked a little glum the other day. Are you sure you're not bothered?" I prodded gently, and Oghren gazed up at me for a long time in silence, then up at the night sky, letting out a deep, pent-up sigh.

"Oh, what do you think? I mean, she was my wife! I spent two years trying to save her, while she was off boffing that tramp and feeding my cousins to the darkspawn!" Oghren sighed, shaking his head. "And now she's dead. And there's no way to ever make things better."

"Well, maybe finding this Felsi will help you forget," I suggested softly, and Oghren nodded slightly, glancing back at me.

"Ha. I guess I could use a bit of the old mortar and pestle, if you're digging my trench," he rumbled, and I tried not to make a face.

"You think she'll be interested?" I asked, and he laughed.

"She sure as Stone _used_ to be! Way back when, when we got going people thought it was the _darkspawn_ coming through," he recalled, and I covered my ears.

"Ew. No. Stop talking," I laughed, and Oghren grinned.

"Ha. Made you turn a little red there. Or is that green? I gotta try that one out on Alistair, see what color I get," he chuckled. I watched Oghren return to the main camp, and I smiled slightly, looking back up at the stars.

oOo

Alistair was watching Adeline as she patrolled around the edge of camp. She was in a good mood – better than she had been in days – and he smiled, listening as she hummed to herself. He watched Oghren walk over, and he heard them talking softly; it seemed that the Dwarf had come to trust her, and had grown fond of her, as they all had. _She really is a bright spot in all of this darkness,_ Alistair thought with a small smile.

He had been thinking deeply, ever since the disaster at Goldanna's place. He had let people push him around, all his life; he had never been in control, never had a choice in anything. Duncan had saved him from that, and Adeline's words made him realize that he really _did_ need to stand up for himself – take charge of himself, and not be pushed and forced around anymore. And now, he knew what he wanted, and was more certain than he had been about anything in his life.

He adored Adeline – he knew that. He had been infatuated with her even before the tragedy at Ostagar; he hadn't really understood his feelings at the time – he had never felt that way about another person. He felt his heartbeat speed up whenever she was near, excited, yet calm at the same time, and now he understood why. He…loved her; he had realized it when he woke up the day after meeting Goldanna. He had planned to spend a drunk, miserable night alone, but Adeline had come to make sure he was alright. She stayed with him and listened to him speak, and when he woke the next morning, Adeline had been there, lying in his arms. He realized that that was what he wanted; he wanted her, and wanted to wake up next to her every morning from then on.

He was nervous, though; she had feelings for him – he knew that as well, and felt the emotion behind their kisses – but did she…love him? She had called him love…but did she want him, as he wanted her? Would she…want to lie with him? He had never done something like that before, and when he looked at her, he wanted it. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to feel her warmth against him, to feel…completion. He wanted to share that feeling with her, but he didn't know how to ask – whenever she was near him, whenever she looked up at him with those clear, green eyes, full of warmth and light, he felt as if his head were about to explode.

Alistair glanced over as Wynne sat down nearby, patching a small tear in one of her robes, covering the stitching with a bit of embroidery. She glanced up as she noticed his gaze, smiling slightly as she saw that something was on his mind. "So…what would you do if someone told you that they loved you?" he began awkwardly, and Wynne chuckled softly, amused by Alistair's nervousness.

"Check their eyesight first, perhaps. Is this someone I should know about?" Wynne teased, and Alistair knitted his fingers together as he rested his elbows on his knees.

"No. I mean, pretend you're a woman…"

"I _am_ a woman, Alistair. That shouldn't be too hard, but I'll give it a try," Wynne replied, and Alistair made a face as he realized what he had said.

"Ahhh, that's…not what I meant. Just…pretend you're _another_ woman. And someone told you that they loved you. How would you react?" Alistair prompted, and Wynne bit back a smile.

"Well, that depends. Does this someone just blurt it out? Do I love them back? I need context," Wynne urged, and Alistair let out a quiet sigh.

"I…I don't know if you love him back. Maybe you do. You've…spent a lot of time with this person," Alistair murmured, and Wynne smiled gently, seeing that he was troubled.

"Perhaps you need to wait for the right moment? You could get her alone in camp, give her a gift perhaps," Wynne suggested, and Alistair's eyes widened.

"Oh, I wasn't talking about _me_ … Just…forget I said anything," he said quickly, standing.

"As you wish," Wynne chuckled, watching him walk off. Adeline came over soon after, switching watches with Sten, and she sat down by the fire, greeting Wynne. "You seem quite cheerful," Wynne observed, and Adeline shrugged.

"Would you like me to tone it down?" the girl teased, and Wynne smiled slightly. "I was wondering, Wynne," Adeline began, and Wynne nodded, "why did the spirit choose to help you?"

Wynne was quiet for a bit, shrugging as she thought about it. It was…difficult to explain. The spirit had always been a part of her life, she had realized, despite only recently coming into direct contact with her. "I have always had an affinity for the spirits of the Fade," Wynne began, and Adeline listened with interest. "As a child I never feared my dreams, because I knew they were there…"

"What about demons?" Adeline asked curiously, and Wynne shrugged.

"I could sense the demons too, and their presence frightened me," the older woman replied, "But it was the kindly spirits of the Fade that took the fear from me. I've always been able to feel the spirits, even if I never saw them. And as I nurtured my talent in the Circle, I became more sensitive. I began to notice, every time I was in the Fade, whether it was in a dream, or in magical practice, that I was being watched," Wynne continued, and Adeline looked at her oddly.

"Do…spirits watch people like that?" she asked, remembering the strange, masked creature that she had seen in the Fade. A sudden shudder went through her as she remembered the voice, the movement not going unnoticed by Wynne, though the older woman made no comment.

"I suppose they must – it is these benevolent spirits that create our dream worlds in the Fade. Sometimes I would see it…a glowing, nebulous form. Most times I would just feel its presence – gentle and comforting, but somehow alien," Wynne described, closing her eyes as she thought about the spirit. "I think it is a Spirit of Faith. They have never been seen before and perhaps I am wrong, but something tells me I'm not. It always felt like the same…entity. This one spirit was curious about me and was…guarding me, for want of a better word."

"You're very lucky," Adeline remarked, and Wynne nodded slightly in agreement.

"There were times, when I was in the Fade, that it seemed to stretch forth to shield me, keeping me safe. And I think it gave me strength in my most terrible battles, Ostagar being one of them," Wynne replied.

"So this Spirit of Faith is like your personal protector?" Adeline mused, her curiosity piqued.

"I don't know why I was chosen. Perhaps it knew that there was something more that lay in store for me. I like to think that I was given a rare chance, and I'm going to make the best of the time so generously given to me," Wynne said, and Adeline smiled warmly at the old woman.

"I'm glad you think traveling with me is worthy of your time," the Elf replied gratefully.

"I will not lie motionless in a bed, with coverlets up to my chin, waiting for death to claim me. That is not the death for me," Wynne said, resolute. "And so I will fight alongside you, and help prepare for the task that is yet before you. So you had better listen to me, because I swear, if I should fall before the end and you don't seem to be doing things properly, I'll get up again to give you a good finger-wagging," Wynne threatened, and Adeline grinned at the old woman.

"That will be something to see indeed," the girl laughed, and Wynne smiled.

"You know, I think you'll be all right, even without my help," the old woman sighed. She was quiet for a few moments as she watched Adeline, and she spoke up. "I have watched you for a time and…perhaps I was wrong," she admitted, and Adeline raised an eyebrow, not sure what she was talking about. "There seems to be something special between the two of you. Alistair seems less guarded when in your company, allows himself to relax; he seems genuinely happy. And you as well; you are less closed off and severe," Wynne observed, and Adeline looked at her with surprise.

"…you've changed your mind about us?" Adeline asked, and Wynne smiled.

"I think I was too harsh in my judgment before, and I am sorry," Wynne apologized, and Adeline smiled, understanding in her eyes.

"You wanted the best for both of us," she replied.

"What you have may not last forever; death and duty may part you, but love's worthiness is not diminished because of that. I should have seen this before," Wynne sighed. "Instead, you learn to cherish every precious moment that you spend together, knowing that it may be the last. And for those of us watching…well, it brings warmth to these old bones to know that something so beautiful can be found in the midst of chaos and strife."

"Thank you, Wynne," Adeline said warmly. "Um…" she added, and Wynne glanced up.

"Was there something else?" the old woman asked.

"The other day, Morrigan mentioned something to me about demons," she began, and Wynne raised an eyebrow. "She wondered if a demon could be born into a mortal body."

 _Morrigan was talking to her about that?_ Wynne wondered, being careful to control her expression. "How do you mean?" Wynne asked, and Adeline shrugged.

"That's what I'm confused about. She said maybe a demon could get into a child in the early stages of conception. I'm not sure why, but something about what she was saying bothers me. I wonder…do you think _she_ would try something like that? Make a deal with a demon, conceive a child, and then have the demon enter it?" Adeline wondered, and Wynne's eyes widened with surprise.

"I…no, I do not believe that. You know of Morrigan's distaste for demons," Wynne replied, trying to be careful of her words.

"I've…also started wondering as of late," Adeline continued, looking into the campfire, her expression slightly troubled. "I was thinking about what Uldred did, back in the tower." _Oh dear,_ Wynne thought, not liking the direction this conversation was going. "I've…always been sensitive to magic, but I know I'm not a mage, and I occasionally become aware of myself in the Fade," Adeline admitted. "After we left the tower, and went to Orzammar I started noticing…changes."

"…what sorts of changes?" Wynne asked, genuinely curious now.

"I'm…a lot stronger than before," Adeline began, resting her hands lightly on her lap, "I mean, you saw me tearing darkspawn apart with my bare hands. I couldn't do that earlier this year if I tried. And Leliana said…" she trailed off awkwardly, making a face, "…said I have…fangs." Wynne's eyes widened, and Adeline shifted closer to her, pulling her upper lip with a finger and showing the old woman one of the fangs.

"I'm not sure what to make of that," Wynne admitted. _Perhaps the demon Adeline did not foresee any physical changes,_ Wynne guessed, seeing the troubled look on Adeline's face.

"Do you think that…there's a demon inside of me? That I'm…becoming an abomination?" she asked in a small voice, and Wynne looked at her for a long time. _Perhaps I should tell her…but maybe now is not the time._

"No," Wynne replied gently. "There isn't a demon inside of you – Morrigan, Jowan, Alistair or I would have sensed it immediately," Wynne replied, only telling half of the truth. _Technically, she_ _ **is**_ _the demon,_ the old woman thought, although she wasn't very happy about concealing the whole truth from the girl, only to give her short-lived comfort. "When things have calmed down a bit, perhaps I will examine you. I'll admit, Uldred's actions may have had unforeseen consequences," Wynne added.

Adeline let out a long sigh, seeming relieved, and she nodded in thanks. "Thank you, Wynne," Adeline smiled slightly, nodding her head gratefully and turning in for the evening.

oOo

As we followed the North Road over the next few weeks, something seemed…different about Alistair and Leliana. Leliana was still cheerful, but at night, when she was on watch, or alone, and didn't think anyone was watching, she didn't look quite so sad – she looked…thoughtful. She was mulling over what had happened, and was slowly becoming the person she was meant to be; who she had _always_ been meant to be. Her smiles and laughter felt more real than before – she was genuinely happy, and it felt like a deep wound in her soul had been reopened, and was now beginning to heal.

Alistair looked more confident in himself – he had always been good at fighting, but was now quicker to act, knowing whether or not he could best an opponent, and not holding back or second-guessing himself. He didn't throw himself into the thick of battle, but rather subtly controlled the field; it was impressive, watching as he drew attention to himself, knowing that his armor and shield would guard against most attacks, and trusting the rest of us to take out the enemies that targeted him.

He also was more confident in speaking to the others, and was more open about his thoughts and opinions on different matters. The young Templar I had met at Ostagar was growing into a powerful, impressive man, and I felt my heart blossom with warmth at the thought; I was proud to have him at my side, my second in command, and I knew that if anything should happen to me, he would be able to see the Blight through to the end. I had always felt a nagging doubt at the back of my head, feeling like everything would fall apart if I was gone, but now…now I was calm. They were all in good hands.

 _Coast's clear…_ I thought as I pulled off my shirt and unlaced my corset, tugging off my leggings and small-clothes, slipping into the cold water of the small pond. It was in a thick growth of trees a few minutes from camp, and Leliana and I had found it earlier that evening, when we were scouting for any dangers before setting up the tents for the night. We had battled a small band of darkspawn – stragglers from the horde, maybe – and as always, I managed to get myself thoroughly splattered in blood. I had also pulled my shoulder a bit in the fight – it had been our first real fight in a while, so of course I overdid it – and wanted to soak to cool off the inflammation. I had told the others where I was going, and Wynne warned me not to stay in the water for too long.

I lay in the water for a while, getting used to the temperature and allowing myself to relax as the tension faded from my body. I closed my eyes, submerging myself and holding onto a rock at the bottom of the pond, feeling the water around me, sensing the slight variance in temperature at the different depths. When I couldn't hold my breath any longer, I went back to the surface, letting out my held breath and taking in the chilly fall air, my eyes still closed. I ran a hand through my hair, looking up towards the sky, and I tensed suddenly as I heard a sharp intake of breath. I scowled, crossing my arms as I stood waist-deep in the water.

"I swear, if that's you again, Zevran–" I began, jumping to the conclusion that he was peeking – I had caught him once, and threatened to cut off his manhood, but I honestly didn't think he'd try it again.

"Uh…no…" I heard Alistair's voice behind me, and my eyes widened. I felt my face go beet-red, and I sank back into the water up to my nose, turning to look. Alistair was standing on the bank, looking nervous and covering his eyes. From what I could see, he was flustered as well. "Y-you were gone for a long time, and I was worried and…" he trailed off, hearing me walk out of the water. "I called out!" he added hurriedly. "I called out before I came close enough to…to _see_ anything…"

"I was probably underwater," I murmured, standing on the bank as the water ran down from my hair. "Did you…? See anything, I mean?" I asked softly, and Alistair looked even more flustered, keeping his hands firmly over his eyes.

"I…um…o-only your back," he replied, and I walked over to the towel I had brought, drying myself off and slipping on my small-clothes and nightgown.

"I'm decent," I said quietly, but Alistair didn't seem to hear me. He looked genuinely troubled by this, and I sighed, smiling slightly and walking up to him. I reached up, placing my hands over his and sliding them away from his eyes. He had a guilty look on his face, his cheeks bright red, and I smiled slightly, cupping his face. "It was an honest mistake. I know you wouldn't try to take advantage of me like that," I murmured, and Alistair looked at me, calming down.

"So that…marking, on your back," he began, and I smirked, crossing my arms.

"Oh, so you were staring long enough to notice?" I joked, and he smiled nervously, seeing that I wasn't angry with him. "It's a tattoo. I got it a few years ago when I…uh…wasn't in my right state of mind," I admitted with a small, awkward laugh.

"It's…very pretty. Well, so is the…rest of you, but…ah…" Alistair trailed off, clearing his throat slightly as the blush rose in his cheeks again. "I…I also came to check on you…and so that we could…be alone," he added, and I smiled softly at him.

"Well, we're alone now. What do you want to talk about?" I asked, and Alistair took in a long breath, as if mustering his courage for something.

"We've…spent a lot of time together. It's been about half a year since Ostagar, I think. You know that I…care for you a great deal. I don't know if I could have made it this far on my own," Alistair said, his eyes shining with warmth as he looked at me. His heartfelt thanks warmed my heart, and I smiled. "I…just wanted to say…thank you. And that I…love you," he murmured the last part, and I felt my heart leap into my throat.

"You…" I trailed off, and Alistair glanced at me, seeing the slow smile that spread across my face. I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly, and Alistair let out a small, surprised breath, seeming startled by something. It took me a moment to realize what was wrong, and then it hit me – I wasn't wearing my corset, and the night air was cold. "Oh…oh Maker's _breath_ ," I muttered with embarrassment as I laughed, covering my face. "Um. Thank you, Alistair," I added as I calmed down, turning to back face him. "I…love you too. And I'm not just saying that as a reply. I really mean it," I added.

Alistair smiled at me, blushing slightly, and he walked over to me, arms partially opened, inviting me in, if I wanted. I stepped into his arms, pressing myself against him as he rested his arms lightly on my back, warm on my skin through the thin nightgown. He kissed my forehead and my cheeks, pausing with his lips a hairsbreadth from my own. "So is that a thing that happens to a woman when it's cold out?" he asked me with a smirk, his tone carrying a hint of teasing.

I leaned forward, pressing my lips against his and running my hands through his hair. "Same thing happens when she wants to be with someone," I replied, equally as teasing, moving closer so that my hips were pressed against his, feeling that he wanted the same as I did. He smiled, closing his eyes and kissing my cheek, moving his fingers along my jaw until they ran lightly over my ears. I shivered, and my fingers gripped his shoulders, making him pause for a moment as he looked at me.

"I'm sorry, did I…"

"No," I murmured, smiling gently. "It's just that an Elf's ears are…sensitive. It's a…very intimate thing, to touch someone's ears like that," I explained softly, looking up at him with slightly flushed cheeks. Alistair placed his hands on either side of my head, very lightly moving his fingers over my ears, tracing out the shape as I closed my eyes, leaning against him and feeling my breathing pick up. We slowly moved, lying down and leaning against one another, his arms around me as I rested my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes and feeling his warmth.

"Wynne told me you pulled your shoulder earlier," he remarked, and I nodded. Alistair suddenly rolled me over so that I lay on my stomach, and I looked up at him curiously. "Relax," he teased, his fingers moving lightly over my back, prodding at the muscles. I let out a soft breath as he began massaging my stiff shoulders, closing my eyes and resting my head on my arms.

"Maker's breath, why didn't you tell me about this sooner?" I groaned as the tension in my back melted away. Alistair leaned over me, brushing my hair from the back of my shoulders and kissing the nape of my neck, grinning as his touch made the hairs stand up.

"You never asked?" he teased, and I snorted, rolling over so I lay on my back. He placed his hands on my stomach and I quivered at his touch. He smiled slightly as he slid his hands gently up my sides, leaning forward until he was practically lying on top of me, warming me with his body as he lay his cheek against my chest, listening to my elevated heartbeat. I could feel his own heart beating against my stomach, and I closed my eyes as I shivered, his breath warm against my skin.

He glanced up as he felt me quivering, and his eyes darkened as they met mine. He moved over me until his heart was beating against my own, and he kissed me gently, sliding his arms under my head and using them like a pillow. I smiled as his kisses deepened, and I moaned softly as he slid his tongue into my mouth, drawing my legs up against his sides and gripping him with my thighs as I wrapped my arms around his neck. I panted for breath as he began kissing my jaw, tracing the line towards my ear with velvet lips, and I closed my eyes as I trembled with pleasure.

"Where did you learn to kiss like that?" I murmured, and he paused, his lips lingering against my throat. I could feel him smirking as he smiled into my skin.

"Redcliffe," he teased, kissing my chin. "Our first kiss was…quite aggressive," he chuckled as I blushed scarlet.

"Oh Maker…" I groaned, and he smiled.

"I liked it," he assured me. "And I'm…glad, actually," he added softly. "Otherwise, I might not know how to do this." Alistair pressed his lips against my throat, and I shivered as he began sucking at the skin, nipping me very lightly. I stared up at him as he drew back, and he smirked at my look of astonishment, kissing me again. "Now we're even," he teased, nuzzling my cheek, and I chuckled, hugging him as he buried his nose in my hair.

After a while, we decided that it was time to return to camp; we didn't want the others to send out a search party…or try guessing what was going on. "They'll think we're doing all sorts of _scandalous_ things," I joked, picking up my bundle of clothes, and Alistair smiled.

"Aren't we?" he teased, placing a hand on the small of my back as we walked, and I closed my eyes, leaning against him as he kissed my hair.

oooo

As we made our way towards Lake Calenhad, Alistair and I became even closer than before. We weren't overly affectionate around the others; we both agreed that it would be in poor taste to blatantly start kissing in front of everyone, but we exchanged small smiles and soft words. When we found time alone, we would sit together, wrapped in each other's arms, watching the stars and talking. I felt happy with him, happy and safe, and I could sense that he felt the same way. The others noticed our change, I was certain; Leliana, and Neria exchanged coy looks whenever they saw us together, and I sometimes caught Wynne smiling at us faintly.

I could see a relationship developing between Neria and Zevran as well; the two seemed quite close, upon further observation, and I noticed that sometimes, they would disappear together for a while. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what they were doing…but so long as they were happy, it was fine by me. I was a bit surprised at first, however – I had noticed Neria's interest, but I wasn't sure if Zevran wanted to pursue the type of relationship that she wanted…or needed. But maybe something about her was changing him – there was tenderness in his eyes when he looked at her that I never saw when he flirted with the other women in our party.

When we reached the Spoiled Princess, Oghren and I looked about for Felsi, but again, she was nowhere to be seen. The innkeeper looked a bit tense for some reason, but wouldn't say why; when I had asked about Brother Genitivi, he denied ever having heard of the man. As we prepared our things for the road the next morning, I went up to him, leaning lightly against the counter and speaking softly, so that the other customers and the nearby waitress wouldn't overhear.

"I was told that there was a Brother Genitivi staying here," I insisted, and the man glanced quickly up at me before glancing back down at the tankard he was cleaning.

"As I said, I know everyone staying at my inn and I've not heard of this person," the man muttered, not meeting my eyes.

"You seem nervous," I remarked quietly.

"Why would I be nervous?" the man hissed, a bit sharp, and I saw a hint of fear in his eyes as one of the patrons glanced over. _Ah, he's being watched,_ I thought, folding my hands lightly on the countertop. "Listen, the person you're looking for isn't here. You should be on your way as soon as possible," he insisted in hushed tones, and I watched him carefully.

"Are you in some trouble? You can trust me," I whispered, and he took a quiet breath, nodding slightly.

"Th-they're watching me. I can't speak openly… _don't!_ " he muttered as I turned my head slightly. " _Don't_ look around, and keep your voice down," he added. "They're looking for anyone asking for this Brother Genitivi. They told me to act like nothing's wrong, and just deny ever having seen the brother, or the knights."

"So you have seen them, then," I concluded, and he shrugged slightly, trying to look casual as he polished the countertop.

"The knights, yes. Brother Genitivi, no. He has never passed this way, but the knights were here asking about him, just as you are," the innkeeper remarked. "You should be on your guard, and leave quickly. I don't know what happened to the knights, but I doubt it was anything good," he added, and I nodded.

"I'll take care of this," I whispered, turning to go.

"Goodbye and…Maker turn His gaze on you," the man said softly. I warned the others about what I had just learned, and they kept their hands near their weapons.

As soon as we stepped out of the inn, we were swarmed by dozens of aggressive, armored men, their armor painted with an oddly familiar symbol. They charged us with cries of 'For Andraste!' and we leapt into action. Alistair, Oghren and Sten formed a defensive line against the opponents, blocking them off and guarding Leliana, Katja, Wynne and Morrigan as they attacked from the back. Olan and Jowan stood behind the three warriors, should any of the enemies break through, and Zevran, Neria and I darted in and out of the fray, slashing at exposed bits of skin and the joints in the men's armor, crippling them before the three warriors finished them off.

We stood, gasping for breath, the ground strewn with bodies. "Isn't that…Andraste's symbol?" Wynne asked, pointing to the pattern embossed on one of the men's shields. The symbol was very much like Andraste's symbol, but it seemed…different. The design was simpler, and looked more jagged. It was almost…unwelcoming.

I went back into the inn – one of the patrons who had been there earlier was now gone, and the innkeeper looked genuinely surprised to see me back so soon…or even at all. "You…you dealt with them! Oh Maker, I thought this nightmare would never end! Thank you so much!" the man exclaimed, shaking my hand vigorously, a grateful smile on his face. "They said they'd kill my wife and son if I said anything about them," he added, letting out a sigh of relief. "Do you know who they were?"

"No, but I plan to find out," I replied.

"Thank you again. You'll always be welcome here," the man said, smiling.

"Ah, before I go, does a woman named Felsi work here by any chance?" I asked, and the innkeeper nodded.

"Yes. She comes in a little later," he replied, and I thanked him for his information, returning to the others. We cleared the area of bodies and packed up our belongings, loading them onto the wagon and getting ready to go. Around noon, I pulled Oghren aside, and we headed back to the inn to find Felsi for him.

We walked into the Spoiled Princess and Oghren stopped by the door, pointing to a pretty – if tired-looking – Dwarf woman with shiny brownish-orange hair. She was wiping down a table, muttering something under her breath as the innkeeper told her something. "There she is! I'm gonna go talk to her. Look, you gotta back me up here, got it?" Oghren said, an eager grin on his face as he saw Felsi. I raised an eyebrow at him, crossing my arms.

"What do you mean 'back you up'?" I asked in confusion, and he shrugged.

"Just…follow my lead, you know?" Oghren replied, and I nodded. I grabbed his shoulder as he was about to walk forward, thinking of something.

"Wait, let me talk to her first. She might be married now," I argued, and Oghren paused, looking at the woman and stroking his chin.

"I…hadn't thought of that," he admitted. "Find out how much she misses old Oghren, or who I have to kill, and then I'll go sweep her off her feet. That's me. Mister charm," he chuckled, seeing me roll my eyes at him. I walked over to Felsi, waiting for her to finish wiping down the table before approaching. She glanced up, looking me over quickly before clearing her throat.

"What can I get for you? And don't say mead. We ran out of that a week ago. And don't say rum, either. Ran out the day before yesterday. And don't say brandy," she listed, and I crossed my arms, smiling slightly.

"When did you run out of brandy?" I asked, chuckling, and she snorted.

"Oh, we haven't yet. It's just terrible. We got it from a shady Orlesian trader, and I think it might really be turpentine," she replied.

"Felsi! I need tables cleaned, girl!" the innkeeper called as he knelt under the bar, organizing bottles.

"I've got a customer!" Felsi replied, letting out a quiet sigh. _Alright, question time,_ I thought, trying not to be too creepy. _Maker's breath, this is going to get awkward. I just know it._

"Does your husband work in the tavern, too?" I asked, and Felsi raised an eyebrow, letting out a derisive laugh.

"Husband? You haven't been in town long, have you? You'd think this whole town was a Chantry cloister, for all the real men you find here," she snorted, shaking her head.

"Then why stay? You could do better in Denerim," I questioned and she rolled her eyes.

"The Dwarves in Denerim are as bad as the ones back in Orzammar. They're all alliances and rank and money, always worried about their reputations. You know how _boring_ that is? I'd rather go drinking with a _deepstalker_ than any of the men in Denerim," Felsi replied, and I took note of this. _Alright…so surface Dwarves are boring. I guess that's_ _ **something**_ _to work with._

"Felsi! The tables, girl! They ain't cleaning themselves!" the innkeeper called again, and Felsi let out an exasperated breath.

"I told you, I've got a customer!" she yelled back, and the innkeeper threw his hands in the air, heading to a back room to get something.

"You don't happen to know a guy named Oghren, do you?" I asked, and Felsi glanced back at me with a groan.

"Ugh! Did you have to bring his name up? I just ate!" she complained, and I raised an eyebrow.

"So you're not exactly a fan of his, then?" I concluded, and she crossed her arms with a huff.

"You could say that. You could _also_ say I would rather kiss a deepstalker on the lips than see him again," Felsi replied, and I tried to mask my surprise. _Whoa, was he really_ _ **that**_ _bad? What the sod happened to make her so angry?_

"What happened between you two?" I asked, and Felsi put her hands on her hips.

"What happened? Is that a serious question? Have you _met_ Oghren?" she said incredulously, and I shrugged weakly. "He got drunk. Drunker than _usual_ , even. Took off his pants and challenged a roast nug to a wrestling match at my father's funeral. He lost, by the way; the roast got him in an arm lock. He sat there crying for half an hour before someone pulled it off him," Felsi explained, and I tried not to laugh, seeing the serious look on her face.

"How did he lose to a piece of _meat?_ " I exclaimed, bewildered, and Felsi shook her head, throwing her hands in the air.

"It was a sodding good roast!" she replied.

"Felsi! What in Andraste's name are you doing? The tables, girl!" the innkeeper called from the back room, and Felsi tucked her cleaning cloth into a loop on her apron.

"Alright!" Felsi called back, giving me a short nod. "I've got to get back to work."

"Alright, be seeing you," I replied, waving and heading back to the entrance, where Oghren was waiting impatiently for the news.

"Well, what did she say?" Oghren asked, and I crossed my arms, leaning against the wall and nodding back towards the woman as she continued to clean tables.

"She's single," I said, and Oghren grinned, tugging at one of the braids on his moustache.

"I knew it! Once you've had Oghren, what merchant boy would do?" he chuckled, and I tried not to make a face.

"But she…ah…hasn't exactly forgiven you for the _nug_ incident," I added, and Oghren scowled.

"That fight was rigged! Anyway, the guards said it wasn't worth pressing charges. So she's no call to hold a grudge!" Oghren retorted sourly, and I shrugged weakly. _Maybe this wasn't such a good idea,_ I thought, still a little doubtful.

"Well…go get her, I s'pose," I said, indicating that we should go.

"Just be ready to pry her off when she throws herself at me. We don't want to make a scene here," Oghren chuckled as we walked. "Well, don't pry her off me _too_ soon. I mean, a little scene's all right," he added, stroking one of his braids with a grin.

We returned to Felsi, and I sat down at a table nearby with a cup of turpentine, not wanting to hover over the two as they talked. "Are you sure you're not a baker? 'Cause you've got a sodding nice set of buns," Oghren said as he came up to Felsi, and I put my hand on my forehead, trying not to groan. I took a sip of the 'brandy' and immediately spit it out, making a face at the innkeeper, who shrugged and went back to cleaning a tankard with a dishcloth. _Okay, who the sod actually_ _ **bought**_ _this crap thinking it was brandy?_ It was actually _worse_ than what the inn was serving the last time we were here…if that was even remotely possible.

"Well look what the nug dragged in," Felsi remarked. "I should've known you were in the neighborhood by the stench. What are you doing here?" she asked, sounding about as impressed by Oghren's pickup-line as I felt.

"Just trying to kick back with a pint. Fighting darkspawn's a lot of sodding work, you know?" Oghren said nonchalantly, glancing over at me as I pushed the tankard to the center of the table, drinking from my own hip-flask to clean my palate.

" _You're_ fighting darkspawn?" Felsi asked incredulously, and Oghren grunted in affirmation.

"This man took on an army of golems almost single-handed," I chimed in, leaning against the back of the chair and looking between the two.

"It was a bit of a pain, but…it was a personal favor for the king of Orzammar, you understand," Oghren added, and Felsi crossed her arms, looking at him doubtfully.

"The whole surface to choose from, and you just _happened_ to come to my tavern?" Felsi asked, and Oghren tugged nervously at his beard, glancing at me as I stood.

"Er…well…" he trailed off. _Sod, time to help out,_ I thought.

As I walked by, heading to the bar, I whispered out of the side of my mouth to him, quiet enough that Felsi wouldn't hear. "Tell her it's fate," I murmured before leaning against the bar and complaining quietly to the innkeeper about serving turpentine.

"What? Oh, right. It's fate, Felsi. What can I say?" Oghren recovered quickly, and I bit back a smirk. The innkeeper was giving me a weird look for eavesdropping on the awkward Dwarven breakup drama, and I told him to ignore me, and that I'd drop the complaint if he sold me another bottle of Antivan Brandy. The _good_ stuff.

"Fate? The ancestors must have a sense of humor, then," Felsi grumbled, fingering the cleaning cloth hanging on her apron.

"You just figure that out now? You've seen what passes for Dwarves up here. You don't think that's a joke?" Oghren argued, and I propped an elbow on the counter, watching the two from the corner of my eye as the innkeeper brought what I asked. I slid him the coins, thanking him and pouring myself a drink.

"I'll give you that," Felsi admitted with a sigh.

"Tell her you've been thinking of her," I whispered, and Oghren smiled at the Dwarf woman.

"I've been thinkin' about you, Felsi," Oghren said, and Felsi let out a weak snort.

"What do you want, Oghren?" she asked, and Oghren shrugged.

"Nothin'. Just thought I'd see how you were doing, is all. Well, maybe that and grease up the bronto, if you know what I mean," he added, and I tried not to groan. _And you were doing so_ _ **well**_ _to begin with,_ I thought, rolling my eyes and looking at the innkeeper, who really didn't seem interested in the exchange in the least. He took a sip of the other brandy – probably curious about my complaint – and he spit it out, coughing and muttering 'damned Orlesians' under his breath. I smiled faintly, pouring him a cup of Antivan brandy.

"Well, you've seen me. You'll have to go back to Orzammar for the bronto," Felsi replied. I decided that now was probably a good time to intervene. I corked the bottle of brandy and stood, walking over and patting the Dwarf on the shoulder, nodding towards the door.

"We can't waste time here; the queen's waiting for us," I lied, and Felsi raised an eyebrow at my words.

"Oh, the queen needed a new fool, did she?" she snorted, crossing her arms.

"Ah well, it's been fun, Felsi, but I better go," Oghren sighed, and I blinked in surprise; Felsi had this strange look in her eyes – nostalgia, maybe. _Wait, did this actually_ _ **work?**_

"Wait! You're leaving? You just got here. I haven't called you a shaft-rat yet…" Felsi asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

"Oh, you can't keep the archdemon waiting. You hurt its feelings, it just might turn the whole Blight around and go home. Nobody wants that," Oghren replied smoothly.

"Well…you don't need to fight it right now, do you? I mean, you could have a pint first. You could call me a surly bronto, I could tell you that you smell like nug droppings…" Felsi argued, and Oghren crossed his arms, looking thoughtful.

"I tell you what, I've got some things I gotta do, but I'll come back for that pint when things're settled. You frigid deepstalker," he added the last bit in a warmer tone.

"Fine, but you'd better not keep me waiting, you worthless copper-plated sword-caste," Felsi replied with a wink.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Oghren grinned as we left, and I tried not to make a face. _Dwarven flirting is_ _ **weird.**_ **"** Heh. I still got it," Oghren chuckled once we were outside, and I glanced back at him, a bit surprised.

"Wait, that was a _success?_ Are you sure?" I asked, and Oghren rolled his eyes at my look.

"Weren't you watching? She could barely restrain herself! Might as well rest up while I can. You ready to go?" Oghren asked, and I nodded as we walked back towards the others.

"And I thought the _shems_ were strange…" I muttered under my breath.

oOo

It was Sten's watch. The Qunari stared out into the darkness that clung to the edge of camp, walking slowly around the perimeter. Adeline, Wynne, Katja and Zevran were playing a card game by the fire, Leliana was singing a song nearby – something about vegetables, Sten thought – Alistair was on the other side of camp, talking to the dog, Oghren was…being Oghren, Jowan and Neria were finishing up dinner by the fire, and Morrigan was keeping watch opposite him, her ears pricked for any sign of danger as she took on the form of a large, black wolf.

Completion. Asala – his soul – was in his hand once more. Sten realized that he had misjudged Adeline. Perhaps she was a woman, yes, but she was a warrior worthy to stand among the ranks of the Beresaad. She had grown since he had met her in Lothering – the strange, wide-eyed Elf girl who wondered why he had been caged. She seemed to go out of her way to help others, and while Sten found it a tedious waste of time and energy, he respected her word, and her skills, and did not challenge her leadership.

The Qunari glanced over as he heard Oghren stumbling about, stopping before Adeline and the others and pointing an accusatory finger. "You saw it! Tell that thing to give it back!" the Dwarf rumbled suddenly, looking unsteady on his feet. Sten could smell the faint stink of alcohol from across camp. The smell of wet dog…or drunken Dwarf – he wasn't sure what was worse.

"I didn't see anything, Oghren," Adeline replied, obviously confused.

"I knew it! You're in cahoots!" Oghren exclaimed, wobbling and nearly toppling over.

"What are you talking about?" the Elf pressed, glancing back towards the other three, who were just as confused as she was.

"That dog! Mangy mongrel. The sodding thing took my pants! But I'll show him. I don't need my pants, anyway," Oghren huffed, crossing his arms and setting his jaw in determination.

"Oghren, you're _wearing_ your pants," Adeline pointed out, and Oghren laughed.

"But the _dog_ doesn't know that. And it will be his sodding downfall!" the Dwarf replied, turning to look at the dog. "You hear that, nug-humper? I'm coming for you! Prepare to die!" he roared, tripping and falling flat in the grass. A few moments later, he began snoring and grunting, and the others shrugged, returning to their card game.

As Sten watched, Adeline lay down her cards with a smug look on her face. Zevran sighed and folded, as did Katja, and the three glanced at Wynne. The old woman showed her hand, and the others laughed, shaking their heads. "Maker's breath, never thought you'd pick up Diamondback so quickly," Adeline grinned, handing Wynne the prize – a mostly-full bottle of Antivan brandy.

"Indeed. Are you sure you were not reading our minds, my darling?" Zevran teased, and the old woman snorted.

"Don't start with that, Zevran," she chided, her words only encouraging the Elf.

"You know, I have heard stories about your Circle of the Magi, my dear Wynne," he continued, and Wynne narrowed her eyes.

"Is that so," she replied warily. Jowan had glanced up from his soup, wondering if this story was anything like the last one he had heard Zevran mention.

"There is a Circle in my country, of course, but perhaps things are different here. I visited the Antivan Circle on official Crow business, once. Met a beautiful young apprentice who was very eager for a taste of the outside world…" Zevran began, and Wynne let out a sigh.

"Please! _Please_ , get to the point," she urged, and Zevran chuckled.

"All I wonder is whether the Templars guard the mages here as closely as they do in Antiva," he said. "In Antiva, the Templars watch the Circle like a jealous husband guarding the chastity of a wanton bride."

"Interesting metaphor…but yes, it is not too different in Ferelden," Wynne replied, relaxing a bit.

"And is it also true that when the moon swells to fullness, the mages of the Circle gather at the top floor of their tower and, naked under the stars, make love to each other?" the Elf continued, and Wynne's eyes widened. Jowan choked on his soup as he covered his mouth, stifling a laugh at Wynne's bewildered and outraged expression.

"What? _No!_ Maker's _breath_ …" she groaned, shaking her head.

"Oh. I found out recently that it was not true in Antiva and hoped that it would be in Ferelden. Alas," Zevran sighed, grinning at Adeline, who was biting back a smile.

Sten watched the pair of Elves as they stood, telling the others that they were going to spar. The two took off their gloves and boots, placing their weapons on the ground by the fire, and began circling. Sten admitted that while Elves were rather thin-boned, they were quite nimble and flexible – the two moved so quickly that their motion was nearly blurred.

The Qunari glanced over as Leliana joined him, folding her hands lightly on the small of her back and looking up at him with curious eyes. She also had an odd, smug look on her face, and she grinned up at him. "I saw what you were doing back in Denerim," she teased, and Sten raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?" the Qunari asked.

"Don't play innocent with me," Leliana giggled.

"What are you talking about?"

"You. Playing with that kitten," Leliana reminded him, and Sten glanced away, pretending to be busy looking out for enemies.

"…there was no kitten," he denied, and the bard grinned from ear to ear.

"Sten, I _saw_ you! You were dangling a piece of grass for it," she laughed, and the Qunari crossed his arms.

"I was helping it train," he tried to explain.

"You're a big softie!" Leliana smiled, her eyes shining with amusement.

"We will never speak of this again," Sten muttered as Leliana turned around, heading back to her tent.

"Softie!" she called back in a sing-song voice.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	37. Chapter 37: Truth

Chapter 37

Truth

Author's note: [NSFW – smut warning]

A bit of smut towards the end of this chapter, just a head's up

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[Harvestmere – early winter]

We made it to Redcliffe after another few weeks of traveling; I told Teagan and Isolde everything we had learned about the Urn's location, and about Brother Genitivi's disappearance. We planned to rest for a few days and resupply – the weather had been stormy in the south, Teagan had warned us, and the roads were muddy and churned up; our wagon wouldn't last a week with those conditions, so we would wait until the weather had improved before setting out to find Haven.

As we stayed in Redcliffe, Wynne aided the mage who was tutoring Connor, and the boy began to master his self-control. Maker knows, the boy was aware of how dangerous his powers were by now – no matter the Arlessa's attempts to stop them, rumors about what had happened had reached Connor's ears. Isolde had expected the rumors to hurt him, to make the boy afraid of his gift, but in fact, it did just the opposite – Connor was more eager to learn about magic than ever; it seemed he wanted to know as much as possible, so that he could prevent history from repeating itself.

I had spoken to Zevran a little earlier, asking him about another of his adventures. He had started out cheerfully enough, but then had suddenly stopped. "I…I would rather not. I shouldn't have said anything," he murmured, and I shook my head. He had a strange, pained look in his eyes, and I could tell that he didn't want to talk about it.

"It's alright. I understand," I replied gently. Zevran could see that I wasn't going to push him about it, and he smiled weakly.

"Thank you. Perhaps another day, hm?" he tried, and I nodded.

"Only if you want to," I added, patting his arm lightly as I headed upstairs to my room. Leliana caught me on my way up, looking as if she had something to say.

"Do you remember our discussion?" she asked, and I nodded, assuming that she was referring to Marjolaine.

"Yes, of course," I replied.

"I just wanted to tell you that I thought about what you told me and…you were right," she began, knitting her fingers together lightly in front of her, looking at me with steady eyes. "I didn't want to admit it, even to myself, but those years in Lothering, I yearned for the freedom and the recklessness that I knew in Orlais. The Maker made the world beautiful, but He also made it dangerous. To really experience it, I have to embrace this, not…not hide away in some nunnery," she said with firmness in her tone, her eyes carrying a new strength in them.

"No more running away, all right?" I asked gently, and she nodded, smiling.

"Sometimes it takes another to show us the truths we hide from ourselves," Leliana replied.

"Yes, yes…let's not get all sappy here," I teased, and she smirked.

"Am I embarrassing you? Well, fine then. I don't really like you and you're a terrible friend. Terrible. I'm not glad I'm here. At all," she grinned, giving me a wink and bidding me goodnight.

oooo

I lay in bed that night, thinking of all that had happened in the past eight months. _There's still so much to do,_ I thought wearily, letting out a long sigh. One thought kept nagging at me though, bothering me until I sat up, unable to sleep. _We're as close to the Wilds as we're going to get, and we're stuck in Redcliffe until the weather clears. I should probably fulfill my promise to Morrigan now, while I have the chance,_ I thought, sliding out of bed.

I pulled on my clothes, slipping out of the room and making my way down the hall, knocking lightly on Morrigan's door. "Ah, Adeline. This is…most unexpected," Morrigan remarked, although she didn't seem quite so surprised that I would pay her a visit. I glanced up and down the dark hall, and she saw my look, nodding that I could enter. She closed the door behind me with a faint click, and I crossed my arms, taking a deep breath before beginning.

"I'm going after Flemeth," I said, and she was unsurprised by the declaration. "I don't know how long it will take – I'm going to bring Dancia to speed the trip along – but it might still take a few days. I'll…uh…need you to handle everyone. Make up an excuse for why I've suddenly disappeared, I mean," I added.

"Ah. You plan to confront her alone?" Morrigan asked, and I thought I caught a hint of concern in her tone.

"Um…well…I was planning on asking Alistair, actually. He's a Templar, so he knows how to fight mages more effectively than I do. The thing is…we're the last Grey Wardens. Your mother kept us alive for a reason, yes, but if we're trying to kill her, she might not hold back. It's not that I don't want to put him in danger – I mean, I _don't_ – but if something happens to both of us…" I shrugged weakly.

"I thought you might feel conflicted about this. That is why I have spoken to Alistair already," Morrigan said, and I stared up at her in surprise.

"You… _what?_ " I asked incredulously.

"'Tis true that mother's reasons for your rescue yet remain a mystery. However, the two of you stand a better chance battling her together than you would alone. And there is also the matter of my own safety," Morrigan explained, and I raised an eyebrow. "Should you suddenly disappear, and the truth be found out later – that you had died by my mother's hand at my request – I have little doubt that Alistair would kill me himself."

"Alistair wouldn't–"

"He has changed," she interrupted me. "He already despises me – if the woman he loves dies because of me, he will not hesitate to strike me down, either in a fit of rage, or for revenge," Morrigan said firmly.

"I…yes. I suppose he _has_ changed," I murmured. "Thank you, Morrigan. I'll go collect him, and we'll be back by the end of the week. Hopefully," I added, and Morrigan nodded. She gave me a small, straw and cloth charm, telling me that she had learned about it from Flemeth – this charm was meant to ward off darkspawn…or more precisely, cover the 'smell' of a Grey Warden. She said not to go near the main horde, of course, but that was a given.

"Luck be with you," the dark-haired woman said as I left. I walked down the hall, finding Alistair's room and knocking lightly on the door. I listened, wondering if he was asleep, and I knocked again, a little louder.

"Alistair!" I whispered, closing my eyes and listening. I glanced up as I saw him coming down the hall, a pair of packs slung over one shoulder, and his shield over the other.

"Dancia's ready to go," he said, and I raised an eyebrow. "I guessed you were probably going to head out one of these nights. Morrigan explained everything – I don't like it, but I know I won't be able to stop you. And I'll be damned if I let you face a centuries-old abomination on your own," Alistair added, and I smiled slightly, walking over as he handed me one of the packs.

"Here, let me go get–" I paused as he handed me my weapons. "Alright, then," I said as I belted them on, and we headed down the stairs and out the main hall, sneaking out to the stables. The weather was cold, with a stiff breeze, and I took a deep breath, the wind carrying the smell of late fall grasses and leaf mold from the forests. We strapped our bags onto the saddle Dancia had been fitted with, and I looked up at the tall horse with uncertainty. "I, uh, don't know how to ride," I admitted, and Alistair smiled gently.

"I won't let you fall," he promised. Alistair helped me onto the tall horse, climbing up behind me and wrapping his arms around me as he took the reins, tucking our cloaks and scarves around us for warmth. "I haven't ridden much – it's not really a Fereldan thing – but I know enough that we won't constantly be falling on our heads," he added, and I chuckled, leaning back against him as he lightly flicked the reins, directing Dancia forward.

"Alright, I trust you," I replied.

oooo

Instead of following the main roads, as we had on our way from Lothering to Redcliffe, we cut directly through the Wilds. Morrigan had marked out the exact location of her mother's hut on my map, along with references and landmarks along the way, marking places that were shortcuts, or areas to avoid. We made good time – it only took us three days to get back to a recognizable section of the Wilds.

"Ah," I said as we mounted a tall hill, overlooking a basin of pine trees below, "I can see the…Tower of Ishal," I remarked, glancing back at Alistair. His eyes were sad as he looked from the tower to the rest of the ruins of Ostagar, and I leaned against him. "They will never be forgotten," I murmured, and he nodded.

"After all this is through, I'm going to put up a monument in their honor," he said, his tone firm, and I smiled encouragingly.

"That's a wonderful idea," I replied softly. Alistair took another long look at the tower in the distance, and when he was satisfied, gently nudged Dancia's sides with his heels, prodding the mare forward.

oooo

"There's something awfully familiar about all this," Alistair mused as we made our way through the tall grass. We had set up camp a good three miles away, finding a secluded spot that was safe from prying eyes. We left Dancia untethered – she had never wandered off before, and we didn't want her trapped there should wild animals find the spot. I had set up leg-hold traps around the camp, nonetheless; better to be safe than sorry.

I sensed her before I saw her; Flemeth didn't even bother hiding – she probably had known we were coming for some time. My blade was vibrating wildly in the sheath, as if trying to fly out and point towards the demonic energy, and I wondered why it had never done that in her presence before now. _Maybe she can had that, too,_ I mused, keeping a firm grip on the handle. When we finally pushed through the tall grass and cattails, we spotted her waiting by the old, slanted hut, as if she were expecting us, just as she had been, so long ago.

I was surprised at first by her appearance; I almost didn't recognize her. The woman's hair had been pulled back from her face and tied into long, curved spikes, like horns, almost, held together with thin strips of dark leather. On her brow was an elegant, metal band that looked much like a crown, and large, silver earrings hung from her ears. She was wearing a long, burgundy robe that looked to be made of some sort of leather or lizard skin that hung down to her ankles in the back, but was pulled tight in the front, revealing tall, plate-metal boots up to her thighs. Her eyes were bright yellow, and her pupils were slit, like those of a cat, or lizard.

" _Told_ you she was dangerous," I muttered to Alistair under my breath, and he let out a sigh.

"I never doubted that. I just didn't want to panic a bunch of new recruits," he replied, keeping a close watch on Flemeth as the old woman glanced between the two of us.

oOo

"And so you return," Flemeth observed, striding regally over to the pair of Grey Wardens, no longer looking the frail old lady they had met so long ago. They had changed as well, she observed; they both had a certain…strength of spirit that hadn't been there before. "Lovely Morrigan has at last found someone willing to dance to her tune. Such enchanting music she plays, wouldn't you say?" Flemeth smiled charmingly, her dark lipstick like blood on her pale face.

Flemeth glanced at the sword at the Elf's hip and nearly laughed as she recognized it – she had forgotten that Adeline had kept that particular blade; the old god-slayer, Claíomh Solais itself. She honestly had never expected to see the saber again – not after Garahel's old blade was lost killing the last archdemon. "So I should dance to your tune, instead?" Adeline asked, her tone level, but her eyes wary, a hand lingering near her saber the entire time.

"Why dance at all? Why not sing?" Flemeth replied, throwing her head back and cackling at the wary looks on the pair's faces. "What has Morrigan told you, hmm? What little plan has she hatched this time?" she crooned.

"She knows how you extend your unnatural lifespan," Adeline answered, and Flemeth crossed her arms.

"That she does. The question is, do you?" the old woman countered. "Ahhh, but it is an old, old story. One that Flemeth has heard before…and even told. Let us skip right to the ending, shall we? Do you slay the old wretch as Morrigan bids? Or does the tale take a different turn?" Flemeth continued, and Adeline raised an eyebrow.

"I just want the truth," she said, and Flemeth scoffed.

"The truth, she says, as if it were nothing!" Flemeth shook her head, the silver earrings flashing in the light of sunset. "No, no. Far better the lie. Far better the comfort of blankets and shadows and a mother's love," her voice was a low rumble, almost a growl. "Morrigan wishes my grimoire? Take it as a trophy. Tell her I am slain," Flemeth offered, and the two Grey Wardens barely managed to hide their surprise, their expressions guarded and suspicious.

"And what happens to you?" Alistair asked warily, and Flemeth made a vague motion with one of her hands, indicating the Wilds.

"I go. Perhaps I surprise Morrigan one day…or I may simply watch. It would be interesting to see what she does with her freedom. Enlightening, even," the witch murmured, placing her hand lightly over her collarbone, the metal gauntlet she wore making her hand look like the claw of a dragon. "Would you give an old woman that?" she asked, glancing between the two. Her eyes lingered on Adeline's form, and she seemed almost amused. "And perhaps you will…receive something in return. Something rather…educational."

"…what do you mean?" Adeline asked, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"You have begun to wonder, haven't you? You grow stronger by the day as your powers mature. You are so different from what our kind normally experiences… I could show you your full potential," Flemeth offered. Alistair glanced at Adeline questioningly, looking to her for an answer. His eyes widened slightly – Adeline looked terrified, and she slowly took a step back. Alistair felt energy thrumming through the air, and he glared at Flemeth, readying to cancel any spells she should attempt to cast.

"I…w-what are you saying?" Adeline asked, trying to keep calm; Flemeth's words had echoed those of Uldred, and the memory of the intense pain resurfaced, nearly crippling the girl with fear.

"Ah, perhaps I will show you, instead," Flemeth replied, holding out a hand. Adeline's body stiffened, and she was thrown back like a ragdoll, tumbling into the tall grass and disappearing from sight. Alistair let out a startled yell, drawing his blade and charging at Flemeth, who cackled, transforming into a large raven and flying up to the rooftop before transforming back and sitting perched atop the house. She crossed her legs, folding her hands lightly in her lap, and she grinned, watching the scene unfold below.

"Maker's breath, _Adeline!_ " Alistair called, running into the grass and searching for her.

"Ugh, over here," he heard her say weakly, shaking some of the tall fronds so that he could find her.

"Thank the Maker you're…" Alistair trailed off as he reached her, freezing. Lying in the grass was a desire demon. He recognized the type from seeing them in the Circle tower, but this one was different. It had red flames around its head, instead of lavender, and its eyes were bright, clear green. _Green like…like Adeline's?_ He looked closely at her features as the demon sat up, massaging her head; she had long, curved horns decorated with carved silver and bronze rings, and a narrow, scaled tail. Her robes were elegantly embroidered, colored pale lavender and gold, and hung lightly about her frame, though more so than the 'clothing' of other desire demons.

"Well, I guess she wasn't trying to kill me, or I wouldn't be talking now," Adeline sighed, getting slowly to her feet and brushing herself off. "What the…?" she muttered in confusion, looking at the robes and glancing up at Alistair. "Wait, we didn't get sent to the _Fade_ somehow, right?" she asked, and Alistair shook his head, unable to speak; he really had nothing that he could say or do that wouldn't result in her panicking.

 _But this_ _ **is**_ _Adeline,_ he thought, relief going through him, despite his confusion. _This isn't like when someone becomes an abomination,_ he observed, _she's still…her._ "Alistair," Adeline said, and he blinked, nodding. She looked like she had been trying to get his attention. "Is there…something the matter?" she asked. She was still confused by her clothes, and as she glanced down, looking at her bare feet, her eyes widened. Her toes were clawed, as were her fingers, and she stared back at Alistair. "Alistair…" she began, her voice rising in panic. She looked back at her hands, her eyes flashing with both recognition and dread, and then slowly moved her hands up to her head, as if she knew what she would find there.

"Adeline, just…just stay calm," Alistair said carefully, watching as she placed her hands on the pair of curled horns. Adeline's eyes went blank with shock for a moment, and she slowly ran her hands down the length of the horns, sliding them down to her face until they rested on her cheeks.

"I…I'm a…" she could hardly form the word, "a…demon…" She looked at Alistair, her heart tightening in her chest, and Alistair could see the conflict on her face as her eyes darted to his sword. _She thinks I'm going to…?_ Alistair immediately sheathed his blade, holding his hands up.

"Adeline, I'm not going to hurt you," he assured her, but she shook her head, taking a step back.

"No I…I…" she trailed off, looking down. "I'm sorry," she murmured, ashamed that she had been afraid of him. "Am I really a…demon?" she asked softly, glancing back at Alistair.

"We'll…we'll figure this out," Alistair said gently, taking a cautious step towards her. Adeline's tail lashed about anxiously, and at his approach, it curled tightly around her legs. "Come on, love," he added softly, holding out a hand. Adeline stared at the armored gauntlet, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing, and she looked up at Alistair with such relief in her eyes that he couldn't help but smile. _Definitely still Adeline,_ he thought as she took his hand.

He gently wrapped his arms around her, feeling her stiffen for a moment before relaxing, shutting her eyes tightly as she hugged him. She shivered, and Alistair looked at her worriedly. "Your armor's a bit cold…and I'm showing a lot of skin," Adeline murmured with a small smile, and Alistair sighed, placing a hand on her cheek gently, kissing her forehead.

They walked out of the tall grass together, and Flemeth watched them from the rooftop, giving slow, sarcastic applause at their approach. "Ah, how sweet. It warms the cockles of my heart to see a demon and a Templar come to an understanding that _didn't_ leave one of them dead," the old woman remarked wryly, and Adeline glared up at her, the red flames that made her hair casting a faint pool of light around them as the sun set.

"Change me back," Adeline demanded, and Flemeth raised an eyebrow.

"Change change change. I already _have_ changed you back, girl – this is your _true_ form," Flemeth snorted, and Adeline crossed her arms.

"Oh, I am _done_ with your half-truths and cryptic speeches. What have you _done_ to me?" Adeline's temper was flaring, and Alistair felt the flames grow hotter around her, licking at the air as her hair bristled and waved about. As a flame touched him, though, it didn't burn, but rather passed right through him, leaving a warm sensation on his skin.

"Oh-ho-ho, such anger. You truly _have_ taken on all the emotions and mannerisms of the mortals, haven't you?" the old woman chuckled, shaking her head. She slid down, dropping from the rooftop and landing lightly on her feet without flinching, as if she hadn't just fallen from the second story of the building. "I have simply removed your disguise. Now, if you ever wish to return to that… _charade_ …then you will think about my offer," Flemeth continued.

"So…so I was… _always_ like this?" Adeline asked, her anger fading and replaced with anxiety.

"Hmph. Not awakened, no. But if you mean to ask if you are abomination, I will tell you, you are not. You are not sharing the body of a mortal. You _are_ a mortal. _And_ a demon. An interesting move…though I suppose you remember nothing," Flemeth said, half to them, half to herself.

"Do you…think we should consider her offer?" Adeline asked quietly, and Alistair nodded slightly.

"…maybe. Even if we _do_ fight her, there's no guarantee she'll… _stay_ dead, from what Morrigan told me. And she seems to know what happened to you – maybe she can explain," he replied, and Adeline took a deep breath, looking back at Flemeth.

"Alright. Flemeth," Adeline began, and Flemeth crossed her arms, looking at her expectantly. "I…accept your offer."

"It's far easier this way, don't you think? The lies are always more fun. Ha-ha, and we can't have a _demon_ leading the mortals to victory against the Blight, now can we? Those Chantry-loving fools would rather slit their own throats," Flemeth chuckled. "The boy can retrieve the book of spells for my clever Morrigan, and I shall see to your…reeducation," Flemeth continued, glancing towards Alistair and waving a hand towards her hut in a shooing motion.

Alistair walked to the hut, not exactly thrilled at leaving Adeline alone with the witch, but he relented. He entered the house, looking around and closing his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Memories washed over him; memories from what felt like an eternity ago. Adeline, lying broken and on death's door, just in that bed over there. And he, distraught, his mind nearly torn asunder from the loss of everything he knew, sitting on that stool by the fire and wishing it was all a nightmare.

Adeline…was a desire demon. He knew that all of his instincts, all of his training as a Templar, should have made him attack her on sight. He was glad that he couldn't do it. She was still Adeline, and that thought seemed to bring clarity to him. _Does her being a demon change anything?_ He knew that it did not – at least, not for him. He would see how Adeline felt about this…revelation, and he would promise never to speak of it to anyone, should she so wish.

Alistair rummaged through a metal chest in the corner of the room, finding a black, leather-bound tome with the design of a leafless tree embossed on the cover. _Ah, her_ _ **real**_ _grimoire,_ he thought, lifting the book out of the chest and placing it on a nearby table. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as Adeline walked into the house; she was an Elf again, and she looked up at him with weary eyes.

"Are you alright?" Alistair asked softly, and she nodded, walking over to him. He held his hands out, and Adeline stepped into his arms, closing her eyes and leaning against him, finding comfort in his embrace.

"Flemeth's gone. She promised not to try anything with Morrigan, and that we'd never see her again…though how much weight I put on her word is debatable," Adeline sighed. "She also…explained everything. Well…a lot of things. Do you…want to hear?" she asked, and Alistair ran a hand gently through her hair, brushing the red strands from her forehead and resting his fingers lightly on her cheek, looking at her with understanding in his eyes.

"Only if you want to," he replied, and she nodded, taking his hand and leading him to the bed, where they sat down.

"Flemeth said we can do whatever we want here. Take any supplies we need," Adeline added, indicating the things on the shelves and tables. She looked at the wall for a few moments before returning her attention to him, letting out a long sigh. "Now…where do we begin…?"

oOo

Alistair was…taking things rather well. I told him everything that Flemeth had told me, and everything that I had remembered; Flemeth had managed to 'retrieve memories' that I had locked away before I had…been born. Apparently, I had been a demon of rather high standing – as the hierarchy of demons went; I had commanded a relatively large section of the Fade, but instead of battling other demons for territory, I spent time watching mortals as they dreamed. I had an unusual fascination with them – an infatuation, even.

I had met my…mother, Adaia, in the Fade. She had dreamed of having children for so long, but she was barren. My memories were fragmented in places, but from what I could gather, I had gotten the idea into my head that I wanted to become a mortal, but wanted to do this with as little conflict as possible. And so we made a deal, and I was born – neither of us had any memory of our agreement, and I was raised as Adaia's child.

"So…you _didn't_ prey on mortals?" Alistair asked curiously, and I shrugged.

"Not that I can remember. I gather I was so fascinated with them that I didn't feel…comfortable, I guess? The memories are fragmented, but I think I actually hunted other _demons_. I was a bit of a cannibal, really," I sighed. "You're not…afraid of me now, are you?" I asked softly, and Alistair shook his head.

"Of course not. I'll admit, I was a little startled at first, but…you're still you. Being a demon doesn't change that fact," Alistair replied. I looked up at him, and I felt my eyes misting over. I hurriedly wiped at my tears, and he smiled gently, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as I let out small, relieved sobs, mixed with laughter.

"I'm…I'm so glad," I sighed, once I had recovered.

"Adeline, I promised that I would never hurt you – I won't go back on my word," Alistair breathed, leaning over and kissing my hair.

"Nor will I," I replied, shifting slightly and reaching out a hand, turning his chin and kissing him. I smiled as I thought of something, and I couldn't help but let out an amused laugh.

"Oh? Something funny?" Alistair asked, and I chuckled, leaning my head against his shoulder and looking up at him with mirth in my eyes.

"More absurd, really. Who would have thought, a demon and a Templar, together like this?" I asked, and Alistair smiled.

"Mmm, we _do_ make for a rather odd pair," he admitted, patting my back as we stood.

oooo

We returned to camp, sitting next to each other as we shared the same tent – it would have been a waste of space to carry two of them with us…and I had to admit, I _did_ rather like waking up next to him each morning. I sat on my bedroll, writing down everything that had happened today in my journal, and Alistair unrolled his own sleeping mat, turning to face the other way and pulling off his shirt as he got ready for bed.

Something about him being this close to me, and accepting my situation so easily, even when I had trouble accepting it myself, made my heart tighten. I closed my journal as I finished, turning to look at him as he slid off his shoes, and I slowly reached out a hand, placing it lightly on the bare skin of his back. I traced the shapes of the muscles as I ran my fingers over his shoulders, my touch lingering gently on a few small moles scattered over his warm skin. Alistair stopped with his boot halfway off, glancing back at me with slight surprise. I smiled coyly as I massaged his shoulders, and he placed the boot down, turning to face me as I sidled up to him.

I placed my hands lightly on his shoulders, his skin warm under my fingers, and I slid my hands down until they rested on his chest, and I felt the steady beat of his heart. Alistair's body was covered in toned muscle, and I felt myself blushing slightly as I looked up at him, only now realizing what I was doing, and wondering what had gotten into me. He leaned forward, kissing me gently once, and then again, each kiss lengthening until we were wrapped in the other's arms, bodies pressed tightly against one another, trying to catch our breath.

Alistair slid his hands down my sides, bringing them to rest lightly on my hips as he pulled me into his lap, but I felt him draw back slightly as his fingertips brushed my bare skin; I had been wearing leggings and a cotton undershirt, and had taken my corset off earlier when I had changed. "Is something wrong?" I asked softly, and Alistair shook his head.

"I…just want to know if…you want me to stop," he replied, equally as soft. I smiled slightly, and in reply, I took one of his hands in mine and slid it back over my hip, feeling his fingertips against my skin. He swallowed nervously as I moved his hand further up, under my shirt, and I paused.

"Are you…do you want _me_ to stop?" I asked, and he let out a small chuckle.

"Well, I don't want to sound… _overeager_ and say no…" Alistair replied, and I smiled as he began moving his hands up on his own, bringing his other hand to the small of my back as he held me. I loved the feeling of his hands on my skin; the cuts and calluses along his fingers were rough but warm. I shivered, and a soft moan escaped my lips as his fingers moved over my chest, and he let out a quiet breath as he lightly brushed my sensitive areas.

I shut my eyes as he raised my shirt above my head, and my breathing picked up as his hands moved over my skin. He must have felt my heart pounding under his fingers, and he slid them around my back, leaning against me and kissing me as I lay back against the bedroll, his lips pressed against my chin, my throat, and my collarbone. I let out a soft mewl as I felt his lips moving over my breasts, and he froze for a moment, thinking he'd hurt me, continuing when he saw my flushed face, and my dark eyes.

"Alistair…" I moaned as his lips moved over my stomach, his hands sliding down to my hips and stopping at the hem of my leggings. He paused, resting his ear against my chest and listening to my frantic heartbeat as his fingers withdrew. He looked slightly apologetic, and I smiled; he was still nervous about this kind of thing. And in all honesty…so was I. "I understand," I said gently, placing my hand on his cheek, and he took it lightly, pressing it against his lips. "But…" I added with a small smirk, my eyes flashing. I gripped him between my knees and rolled, and he stared up at me with surprise as I sat on his hips. "That doesn't mean that I can't torture you until you're ready," I teased.

"Oh, will you now?" he asked with a smirk, looking up at me as I leaned over him. In reply, I ran my fingers gently over his chest, tracing out the muscles along his abdomen, and I leaned further, pressing myself against him as I felt his heart beating against mine. I kissed gently – almost teasingly – along his jaw, moving down over his throat and collarbone, my hands trailing down over his sides and following the shape of his hips. I could feel that he wanted me, his eyes darkening as he gripped my sides, and I placed my hands lightly on his stomach as I sat up, moving my pelvis back and forth slowly against his, torturing him as he groaned.

"Adeline…" he breathed, gritting his teeth as he shut his eyes, and I felt his grip tighten on my hips as I made more exaggerated movements, pushing harder against him as I felt my own center throbbing against his. "Adeline…Maker…" he groaned. "Stop or I'll…have to take you right here…" he gasped, and I grinned as he moaned again, louder this time as his hips jerked under me, and his hands gripped my sides. I stopped rocking back and forth as I twined my fingers with his, pinning them gently above his head. I kissed his forehead, and he chuckled slightly, looking up at me as I sprawled across his chest. "You really _are_ a wicked, wicked woman, you know that?" he whispered as he caught his breath, and I laughed.

"You're lucky I'm on your side, then, my dear," I smirked, letting go of his hands and settling down next to him.

"But I…want to wait a bit…" he added softly, "at least…until we're in a proper bed." He nuzzled against my throat as I felt myself blushing; I almost laughed at how easily we could fluster each other.

"I'll hold you to that, then," I whispered in reply, and he smiled. We lay together, wrapped in the other's embrace, still quivering with excitement. I smiled in contentment as we went to sleep, letting out a long sigh as I rested my head against Alistair's shoulder, feeling safe as he held me. "I love you," I murmured softly, and Alistair's arms wrapped more tightly around me.

"And I you," he replied, pressing his lips against my forehead.

oOo

Adeline and Alistair had remained in the Wilds for a day after confronting Flemeth; they had wanted to return to Ostagar. Neither had voiced it, but both wanted to search for Duncan's body. They found his blades in the skeleton of an ogre, but no sign of the older Grey Warden. Alistair had come across the crucified remains of King Cailan, and the two had given him, and any other soldiers they found, a proper funeral. In the royal enclave, Alistair found a sealed chest near Cailan's things, which had miraculously remained intact through all these months – the darkspawn presence had kept out any would-be looters, it seemed.

Within the chest, Alistair had found a longsword made of material similar to that of Adeline's blade, with glowing blue runes along the length. "Impressive…" Adeline remarked, watching Alistair give the blade a few test swings. She drew her own saber and held it out, comparing the runes along their lengths.

"I wonder what they mean…?" Alistair murmured, eyes moving slowly over the glowing marks.

"Maybe it's in an old tongue, lost to the ages," Adeline mused. The blades began humming in harmony, and the two glanced at one another at the sound. Adeline gently tapped the edge of her saber against the longsword, and both blades rippled and shuddered violently, sending a bolt of energy up their arms and forcing both of them to drop the weapons.

"Maker's breath!" Alistair exclaimed, quivering as he felt energy thrumming through him, the hair on his arms and the back of his neck standing on end.

"They're…obviously related," Adeline managed through chattering teeth, shakily bending down and retrieving her sword. "But let's…not do that again. Until we know what it is, anyway," she added, and Alistair nodded.

"Agreed," he said, sheathing his blade as the two returned to Dancia.

oooo

Morrigan had managed to avoid awkward questions the others had begun asking, once they noticed that Alistair and Adeline had disappeared, by feigning ignorance about the whole thing. "You don't think they went after the Urn themselves, do you?" Leliana asked one morning, a few days after the Grey Wardens' disappearance. At first, the group had written it off as something small – perhaps the two had sensed darkspawn nearby, and had gone to investigate – but it had been almost a week since they had gone.

"I don't think they would attempt something like that. Adeline is headstrong, but she knows better than that," Wynne replied, although she too was worried.

"I do not think you need concern yourselves with that," Morrigan remarked, and the two women glanced at her, looking at her oddly. Morrigan leaned against the wall by a window in the hall where they had gathered, and she nodded over her shoulder. "They have returned," she added.

Sten was practicing with his blade in the courtyard, pausing as he heard the Wardens' approach. He glanced up, seeing the two sitting on Dancia's back, and he nodded slightly in greeting. "You were gone for a few days," he remarked, and Adeline shrugged, clambering out of the saddle none-too-gracefully, her foot catching on a stirrup on the way down. Sten caught her before she fell on her face, setting the Elf upright with a small sigh. _Still like a helpless kitten, no matter her prowess in battle,_ the Qunari thought, though not without a hint of affection.

"Thank you Sten," she sighed, rubbing her back and the insides of her knees. "Ow… Now I know why Fereldans don't ride," she added with chagrin, and Alistair laughed, hopping down from the horse and leading the mare towards the stables. "We were…running an errand," Adeline explained, knowing that it probably wouldn't go over too well with Sten.

"So I see," the Qunari remarked; he noticed something different about the Grey Wardens, and had seen a strange, new blade on Alistair's hip – it was a silver longsword with blue runes across the length, much like Adeline's saber. Adeline covered her surprise at Sten's lack of questioning by glancing back at Alistair as he returned with her pack, handing it to her.

"Um, here. I picked these up for you from a merchant we met in town," the girl added, going through her pack and pulling out a paper bag. She handed it to Sten and smiled slightly, heading up the stairs from the courtyard and to the castle with Alistair at her heels. Sten unrolled the top of the bag curiously, taking in a quiet, surprised breath; inside the bag was a small incense burner and a second, smaller bag filled with sticks of incense. Beside that was a small box of thin, sweet biscuits with a layer of white sugar glaze on top, shaped into zigzag patterns.

Adeline hadn't been looking forward to the lecture she was probably going to get from everyone; she was pleasantly surprised when no one chided her or asked where she had gone. She handed out the gifts she had bought everyone – 'peace offerings' she had told Alistair – and they seemed quite happy with them. For Wynne, a romance novel and a wool shawl, for Leliana a pair of blue suede dancing shoes and a ribbon for Schmooples, for Katja a book on astronomy with star maps inside, for Zevran some cologne and a romance novel – the _other_ kind – Adeline had thought, a new quiver with images of halla embroidered on the outer rim for Neria, a bottle of Dwarven ale for Oghren, a travel-sized alembic for Jowan, a lamb bone for Olan, and a set of gold earrings for Morrigan.

"You have returned from the Wilds…alive. What news have you?" Morrigan asked, once things had settled down with the others.

"Flemeth is dead. You're free," Adeline said simply, and Morrigan took in a long breath.

"Dead…? You actually managed it? I barely dared to hope 'twas even possible…" Morrigan murmured, placing a hand over her heart. "And the real grimoire? Did you find it?" she added, glancing back at the Elf.

"Yes, here it is," Adeline replied, handing Morrigan the tome.

"And so here it is. Fantastic. And…thank you. For helping me. No one has ever…thank you," Morrigan was at a loss for words, and Adeline smiled at the dark-haired woman.

"You're welcome," she replied.

"We are hopefully free of any further pressing obligations involving my protection," Morrigan sighed, thanking Adeline once more before retreating to her room, intending to study the book.

Adeline informed the others that they would be heading to Haven the next day, so they packed their things, preparing for the trip. The Elf spoke with Teagan and Isolde, apologizing for the delay, but telling them that there had been urgent business in the Wilds, hoping that they would assume she was talking about the darkspawn horde.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	38. Chapter 38: Alone

Chapter 38

Alone

Author's note: [NSFW – smut warning]

It's pretty much a good portion of this chapter – I'm sure you all know what's coming, and it gets a bit steamy, so if you just want to skip to the main plot, go to the forth partition, where it begins 'Alistair woke'.

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Adeline was sitting by the fire in her room that evening, and she held out a hand, looking at her fingers. _Shame I can't use magic outside of my demon form,_ she thought with a soft snort, _but I guess being able to sense it is useful enough. And I_ _ **do**_ _remember a few unique abilities I can still use as an Elf. Hah, now that I think about it, it really_ _ **does**_ _make sense,_ she smiled slightly. _I always wondered why I was so good at convincing people to see things my way. I guess that's one of the effects of Charm, although I'd never want to outright_ _ **hypnotize**_ _someone,_ she thought with chagrin. _No. Convincing them is good enough for me._

Adeline glanced up as she heard a soft knock at her door, getting to her feet and walking lightly over. She opened the door a crack, smiling and letting Alistair in; he was holding a tray with a few different cheeses, a pair of apples, and thin slices of bread. In his other hand, he held a pair of wine glasses, and tucked under his arm was a bottle of Orlesian red. "Raiding the larder?" Adeline teased, joining Alistair by the fire as they sat down. He placed the tray in front of her, smiling slightly as he uncorked the wine, pouring her a glass.

"Maybe. I found some of the good stuff way in the back of the pantry – by the time anyone realizes it's there, the mice will have gotten to it. I can't in good conscience let perfectly good cheese go to waste," he explained matter-of-factly, and Adeline laughed, taking a sip of her wine and watching as he cut small portions of the different cheeses and the apples.

"You know," Adeline said as they ate and drank, leaning against each other and warming themselves by the fire, "I think I've been subtly using my powers all along."

"Really?" Alistair asked, looking thoughtful. As he thought about it more, though, he realized that he could probably pick a few different times where her abilities had stood out. "Like for instance…the time at the tower?" Alistair suggested, and Adeline shrugged.

"Well yes, that, but I mean more subtle. Things like…being able to convince people really easily. Or being particularly sensitive to magic," she replied.

"Ah, right. I _did_ notice you tensing up a few times when we encountered mages. I thought you may be a little sensitive to that sort of thing," Alistair murmured, and he paused for a moment as he took a sip of wine. "Wait…so then maybe that's why…" he trailed off, glancing back at Adeline.

"That's why what?" Adeline asked curiously.

"There was something…strange, at your Joining," Alistair began softly, looking into the fire. "After you drank from the chalice, you looked like you…weren't going to make it," he murmured, his eyes slightly sad at the memory. "You turned white as a sheet, and started bleeding from your eyes and nose," he added, and Adeline stared at him.

"What?" she asked – no one had told her about this. "Why didn't anyone…?"

"We didn't know what was happening. Duncan didn't say anything, but I could tell by the look on his face that he'd never seen something like that before," Alistair continued. "I mean, you turned out fine afterwards, but still…" he shrugged weakly, not sure what to make of it.

"Hmm…" Adeline murmured, placing a hand on her chin. "I _do_ wonder how the taint affects creatures from the Fade. I guess _that_ has something to do with it," she concluded. "Although you'd think I'd be a rage demon for my temper," she added with a laugh, and Alistair chuckled.

As the two continued chatting, moving on to more pleasant topics, Adeline could sense, subtly, that Alistair was becoming nervous; she wondered if it was about the upcoming trip to Haven. "It's getting late, and we should probably turn in," she sighed, stretching and letting out a small yawn.

 _I…I need to tell her,_ Alistair thought, his heartbeat picking up as he thought about it more and more. _I've been waiting for the perfect time but…it might never happen at this point._ As Adeline got to her feet, placing the tray and wine glasses on a side table, Alistair walked over to her, taking a short, nervous breath and watching her as she turned to face him.

"Alright. I guess I really don't know how to ask you this," he began, and Adeline picked up on his nervousness right away, a look of concern on her face.

"Is something wrong? And…are you sweating?" Adeline asked, looking at him carefully.

"No! I mean yes. I mean… I'm a little nervous, sure," Alistair admitted, awkwardly knitting his fingers together. "Not that this is anything bad or frightening or…well, yes…" he trailed off, taking a deep breath. _Alright. Try to talk to her_ _ **without**_ _putting your foot in your mouth. Or rather_ _ **both**_ _feet, as it stands,_ Alistair thought with chagrin, managing to calm himself down enough to speak. He ran a hand through his hair, looking back at her. "Oh, how do I say this? You'd think it would be easier, but every time I'm around you, I feel as if my head's about to explode. I-I can't think straight," he admitted, and Adeline's eyes widened for a moment with surprise.

"Gee, thanks," she snorted, although she was more amused than offended.

"I don't mean it like _that_. I mean…alright, let me start over," Alistair sighed, closing his eyes for a moment to collect himself. _I was fine the other day! Why am I so nervous now?_ he wondered, swallowing hard and managing to calm down. "Here's the thing: being near you makes me crazy, but I can't imagine being without you. Not ever," Alistair began, looking at Adeline and taking her hands in his. "I don't know how to say this another way. I…want to spend the night with you. Here, in the castle. Maybe this is too fast, I don't know, but…I know what I feel," Alistair murmured.

Adeline felt as if her heart were about to fly out of her chest, and she could feel heat crawling up her throat and over her ears. "Even though I'm not… Even though I'm…?" she trailed off, and Alistair smiled gently at her.

"That doesn't change anything between us," he assured her softly. "I wanted to wait for the perfect time, the perfect place…but when will it be perfect? If things were, we wouldn't even have met," he continued, his fingers tightening on hers for a moment. "We sort of…stumbled into each other, and despite this being the least perfect time, I still found myself falling for you in between all the fighting and everything else." Alistair pressed his forehead against Adeline's, his eyes anxious for a moment. "I really don't want to wait anymore. I've…I've never done this before. You know that. I want it to be with you…while we have the chance. In case…"

Alistair had stopped himself from saying it out loud, but he knew that Adeline caught his meaning. She looked up at him, placing her hands lightly on his chest and feeling his heartbeat, her eyes so bright that they nearly glowed in the dim room. Maybe they _were_ glowing, Alistair thought, and he wrapping his arms around the girl.

"No need to say anything else. I agree," Adeline breathed, standing on her toes and sliding her hands up his chest, wrapping her arms around Alistair's neck and kissing him as he pulled her to him. She let out a soft gasp as he leaned her back against the side table, grabbing her hips and lifting her easily onto it. She moaned into his mouth as he gripped her hindquarters, and Adeline wrapped her legs around his waist, gripping his shoulders tightly as she felt her center pressed against his groin.

Alistair's hands ran down her thighs, sliding back up as he gathered her nightgown under his fingers, slipping it over her head as she loosened her legs and tugged at his own shirt, their mouths parting for only a second as they took their garments off. They gasped for breath for a moment, quivering with excitement, and Alistair grinned, picking her up and carrying Adeline to the bed. She kept her arms and legs wrapped tightly around him as he pulled off the rest of his clothes, and he sat her down on the edge of the mattress.

Adeline took his hands and placed one on either of her hips, hooking his fingers under the sides of her small-clothes, and he gently slid them down her legs, dropping them into the pile of clothes by the bedside. Alistair knelt in front of her, wrapping his arms around Adeline's waist and hugging her tightly as she kissed his hair. He pressed his forehead against her chest, feeling her heart throbbing at a breakneck pace, and he slowly stood, taking her face in his hands and kissing her very gently as the two caught their breath.

"Let's…take it slow," Alistair murmured as he joined her on the bed, and Adeline nodded. They sat down together, wrapped in the other's arms and just…looked at each other for a while, trying to calm their racing hearts. "You…" Alistair's voice lowered, a huskiness entering his tone. "You're so…beautiful…" he breathed, and Adeline smiled as he nervously trailed a hand down her side, as if he were almost afraid to touch her – he wondered how he had been so bold the other night, and had nearly taken her then.

"Don't be shy, ma vhenan – just…follow your instincts," Adeline breathed, tracing out the contours of his chest with light fingers, setting his heart on fire at her touch.

"Ma…vhenan?" Alistair echoed softly, and she smiled as the words left his lips.

"My heart," Adeline whispered, taking one of his hands and placing it over her heart. He smiled slightly as he felt it fluttering under his fingertips, and he gently moved his hand to the left, trailing over her soft skin as the breath hitched in her throat, and her eyes closed in pleasure. Alistair leaned in, placed gentle kisses across her face and cheeks, pausing as his lips lingered by her ear, a sudden thought coming to him. Very gently, he nibbled at her earlobe, and was rewarded by a small, startled gasp, and a sigh of pleasure as he felt Adeline's excitement pressing against his chest.

She ran her hands over him, her nails light on his back, dragging trails of fire where they went as the two were lost in each other. Alistair pulled her into his lap, her knees gripping his sides as she straddled him, and Adeline let out a small hiss as she felt his desire brush against her, the fire in her center flaring and pulsing through her body.

Alistair swallowed as he saw the woman before him, her skin lightly flushed, her red hair burning softly against the darkness like embers, as if illuminated from within. His kisses trailed over her collarbone, and she threw her head back as his lips lingered over her breasts, her body quivering against his as the tension built in her center. "Take me, emma lath…" she gasped, almost begging, and Alistair placed his hands on her hips, his fingers trembling as he guided her onto him, feeling her surround his length; she cried out when she was upon him fully, and a bolt of fear went through him – had he hurt her?

"Adeline," he murmured with concern, seeing pain in her eyes, but she shook her head gently, panting for breath as tears ran down her cheeks.

"My…my maiden-head," Adeline whispered. "It's normal for a woman's first time," she explained. "Don't stop… Maker, don't _stop_ ," she begged, keeping a firm grip on Alistair's shoulders as she began to move, rocking slowly back and forth. Alistair saw the flash of desire in her eyes as the pain faded, and he gently kissed her tears away, excitement setting his blood on fire as he held her to him.

"Adeline…" he whispered her name as his fingers tightened on her skin, exploring every inch of her as she moved against him, her legs tightening around his waist. He leaned forward, his lips brushing softly over her chest, lingering on her sensitive places as her breathing picked up. He nipped her skin gently, and she shuddered, shutting her eyes as her breathing quickened.

"Alistair…" she breathed, her fingers tightening on his shoulders as he began moving her hips faster against his, and she let out a soft groan as he gripped her hindquarters. "Alistair…I think…I'm going to…" a shiver went through him as she pushed herself harder onto him – fire tore through Alistair's body as he fell on her, his lips against her throat as his hips thrust against hers again and again, and Adeline gasped out his name as her back arched, and she clenched up around his length. Alistair felt his own release a moment later, and the two lay gasping for breath, staring at one another in the moonlight, their skin flushed and shining with a layer of sweat.

Alistair felt dizzy as waves of cinnamon wafted from Adeline's skin, and he almost laughed when he realized it; the scent that she wore was _natural_ – it was her _sweat_ that smelled like cinnamon. "What is it?" Adeline panted softly, trying to catch her breath as she lay beside him, seeing the amusement in his eyes as he chuckled.

"You…" he laughed, shaking his head. "Your scent…" he couldn't get the words out, and Adeline looked at him in puzzlement, taking in a long breath and smelling the air. She flushed scarlet as she realized what he was talking about, and he grinned – he loved her expressions when she was flustered around him.

"It's a…desire demon thing. It's supposed to be alluring," she mumbled, and his smile softened as he ran his fingers gently over her face.

"I could live a thousand years breathing your scent alone," Alistair murmured, his voice husky, and Adeline shivered at his tone, loving the way his voice changed like that. She let out a soft laugh as Alistair suddenly pulled her against him, checking her over carefully. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, and Adeline kissed him, shaking her head.

"Never, my love," she replied. "Although…" she added, butting her forehead against his, "you were…more aggressive than I expected," she admitted, and he smirked.

"I followed my instincts," he teased, and she laughed as he nuzzled her cheek, running his hands over her back as he kissed her ear softly, caressing the sensitive skin with his lips.

"Oh…" Adeline sighed as she felt his mouth against her ear. "Careful, Alistair – I might just attack if you keep doing that," she warned, shivering as he continued to move his lips gently over her ear, trailing over the sensitive patch of skin behind it and smiling softly as he felt her quivering with pleasure.

"Would you, now?" he teased, trailing a line of kisses from her ear to her jaw, his hand sliding down her back and resting over her hip.

"Only if you don't take me first," she replied in a coy tone, her eyes flashing again as they darkened with desire.

"Your wish is my command," Alistair breathed, going slower this time, his lips moving down her jaw and over her throat. Adeline moaned as Alistair moved torturously slow, taking his time as he kissed over every inch of her body, feeling fire in his veins at the mewls and sighs that came from her.

oooo

Zevran walked down the dark hallway, his hair still slightly damp, chilling him in the cool air. He had just come back from a swim in the lake – the water had been cold, but refreshing. He had asked some of the women if they wanted to join him for naked cliff-diving; Katja said she couldn't swim, and was deathly afraid of heights, Neria had turned in early for the night, Leliana seemed to consider it for a moment before saying 'only if we tie a rope around your neck first', and Morrigan had simply walked off without a word. _Ah, so cold-hearted, these Fereldan women. Harsh like the weather,_ the Elf thought with amusement.

Zevran paused as he passed by Adeline's room, hearing a faint moan from within. _Oh? Is something the matter?_ he wondered, curiosity piqued. Zevran moved silently to the door, listening as he heard another moan, louder this time, and then a gentle laugh. "Oh, sorry," he suddenly heard Alistair's voice, and Adeline laughed again.

"No, I'm just…ticklish there," she chuckled. "But I…sort of liked it," she added in a very different tone, and Zevran heard her let out a startled gasp, and then another soft laugh. Zevran couldn't help himself – his curiosity always seemed to get the better of him…and he wanted to confirm that the two were doing what he _thought_ they were doing.

He knelt by the keyhole, peeking in and seeing the Grey Wardens entangled on the bed, their skin nearly burning in the pale moonlight as Alistair kissed Adeline's ribs, pinning her hands to the sheets over her head as she laughed, his soft kisses tickling her sides. "Alistair!" she giggled, and the man grinned, taking one of her hands in each of his and twining their fingers together as she wrapped her legs around his waist, his kisses moving to her throat and collarbone.

Zevran withdrew, a small smile on his face, and he crept down the hallway, careful not to make a sound as he returned to his own room. _Of course…this will only add to the list of things I can use to torment him,_ Zevran thought with amusement. Although…it would probably be safer to tease Alistair about this _away_ from Adeline. _She just might kill me for that,_ he thought, trying not to laugh as he imagined the girl's face, caught between a mixture of rage and embarrassment.

As he opened the door to his own room, he raised an eyebrow, finding Neria lying in the bed, rolling over as she heard him come in. "I thought you said you wanted to turn in early for the eve?" Zevran remarked, sitting on the edge of the bed and tugging off his boots – the Dalish Elf usually shared a room with Katja, when they didn't spend the night together. He slid off his shirt, and Neria sat up with the sheets wrapped around her bare shoulders, lightly tracing the tattoos across the assassin's back with delicate fingers.

"I got lonely," she replied coyly as she kissed the back of his neck, and Zevran turned slightly, kissing her as she leaned over his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him and placing her hands on his collarbone as she pressed her soft chest against his back.

"Mmm…perhaps we should do something to remedy that, my dear," Zevran suggested as he undressed, sliding under the covers as Neria wrapped her arms around him.

"You're going to hate me for saying this," Neria began as she lay on his chest, kissing his nose, "but I think I've fallen for you." Zevran felt his heartbeat pick up despite himself, and he smiled gently at the woman, running a hand over her forehead and brushing away a few loose strands of hair.

"I would never hate you, my dear," he replied. Neria smiled back, chuckling as she slowly undid the braids in Zevran's hair, her fingers moving slowly as she plucked at the pale strands. She leaned forward and kissed him again, her lips brushing gently against his. Zevran slid his hands down her back, grinning when he felt her gasp into his mouth as he gripped her hindquarters. His tongue brushed across her lower lip and she opened her mouth, feeling him roll her onto her back as her nails traced over his skin. They were lost in each other, drowning in the passion of their embrace.

oooo

Adeline let out a long breath, smiling at Alistair as he held her, his arms warm around her body as she lay pressed against him. "Hmm. You know…" he began, kissing the girl's forehead, "according to all the sisters at the monastery, I should have been struck by lightning by now."

She laughed softly, running her thumb along his jaw and smiling up at him. Alistair smiled back, loving the musical sound of her laughter. "Really? You'd think it would have happened before the second time," Adeline replied, and he chuckled.

"Maybe we're being spared because we're the last Wardens in Ferelden," he mused, kissing her again, and she pursed her lips, thinking for a moment.

"So they _really_ told you that if you slept with someone without sanction, you'd be struck by lightning?" she asked, a bit of amusement in her tone, and Alistair smirked.

"Yep. Lightning first, then the end of civilization as we know it. I'm a bad, bad man," he answered with a charming smile. "You _do_ realize the rest of our little party here is going to talk, right? They do that," he remarked, and the Elf shrugged.

"First smart comment and I feed them to the darkspawn," she said offhandedly, and Alistair laughed, running a hand lightly along her forehead, tucking hair behind her ear and kissing the small scar across her temple, moving down her cheek and jaw until he reached her mouth.

"See? _This_ is why I love you," he chuckled, and she smiled, closing her eyes as he ran his finger over her ear, tracing out the shape. "So…what now? Where do we go from here?" he asked after a while, and she smiled.

"We stay together, no matter what happens," Adeline replied firmly, and he reflected the smile.

"Right. I can handle that. I hope," he said, and she chuckled softly, kissing his chin. "Have I told you that I love you? I did? Well, it won't kill you to hear it again, will it?" Alistair added, pulling her tighter to him.

"I love you, too," Adeline replied as she nuzzled against his throat, closing her eyes as they drifted off in each other's embrace.

oooo

Alistair woke as he felt the warmth of sunlight on his face and shoulder, the light streaming in through the curtains. He felt something resting lightly over his chest, glancing down to see Adeline's arm draped across him, and he turned slightly, finding her asleep with her head resting on his shoulder, her soft breath warm on his chest. _It…wasn't a dream…_ Alistair thought with a gentle smile, trying not to move around too much; he didn't want to wake Adeline just yet. He watched the Elf in silence; she looked at peace as she slept, and Alistair smiled warmly as he looked at her. _Ma vhenan…my heart._

He could feel Adeline's heartbeat quicken against his side, and feel her breathing pick up as she woke, her eyes fluttering open as she blinked in the sunlight. "Mmm…morning," she murmured with a soft sigh, and Alistair smiled, lightly stroking her hair.

"Morning," he replied, feeling her shift into a more comfortable position, and they lay together in silence for a few minutes, basking in the other's warmth. Adeline looked up at Alistair, her fingers moving gently over his chin, playing with his stubble. He took her fingers gently in his and kissed each one, rolling onto his side and pressing his lips into her hair as she sighed with contentment, tangling her legs with his as she nuzzled into his chest. "Someone woke up on the right side of the bed," Alistair chuckled, and Adeline glanced up at him, smiling and kissing his collarbone.

"Every side's the right one when I wake up in your arms," she murmured, and he beamed at her, hugging the girl tighter to him. Adeline let out a long, happy sigh, and Alistair felt warmth in his heart at how relaxed she looked as she cuddled into his side. "Don't ever leave me, alright?" she murmured, and Alistair pressed a soft kiss against her lips.

"I won't – I promise," he replied.

The two sat up slowly, and Alistair glanced down at Adeline's collarbone as he heard a faint jingle – she was putting her necklace back on. _Ah, right,_ he thought, spotting the pair of rings. One was the signet ring of House Aeducan – he remembered from their trip to Orzammar – but the other… Well, he wasn't quite sure what that ring was for. It was a perfect gold band that reflected the sunlight, and Alistair thought that it looked almost like a…

"Ah," Adeline said, following his gaze. She took the pair of rings in her hand, holding them up and letting out a sigh. "I guess…we shouldn't have any more secrets," she added guiltily, and Alistair looked at her oddly. _Wait…does that mean…_ "Wait, wait, let me explain," Adeline said quickly, seeing the sudden look of panic in his eyes. "Sheesh," she snorted, smiling slightly as he relaxed.

"Only…only if you want to," Alistair said with some effort, and she shook her head.

"No. I owe you an explanation," she replied, taking a deep breath. "So the thing is…I was betrothed, at one point. Before I left Denerim," Adeline began, and Alistair refrained from saying anything, although she smiled at the look in his eyes. "I don't seem like the type to get married, right?" she asked, and he nodded awkwardly.

"Seems I can put my foot in my mouth without saying anything at all," he remarked, and Adeline laughed. "You just seem like…I don't know, a free spirit. Like you wouldn't want to be bound like that," he admitted, and she smiled slightly at his words.

"Hah, you don't have to pretty it up, Alistair; it really wasn't easy for my father to find a match for me," Adeline replied, "and I wasn't exactly a willing participant, either," she continued. "Tradition in the Alienage holds that until you're married, you're considered a child, no matter what your age. An Elf's parents or the Hahren – the Elder of the Alienage – arrange a match for them, and then they get married. Simple as that," Adeline explained, and Alistair raised an eyebrow.

"You…um…don't sound too happy about that," he remarked, and she nodded.

"Oh, I was furious. I always knew it was inevitable, but I had hoped I could maybe…I don't know, run away and find the Dalish or something," she murmured. "But my father was getting old, and I couldn't just leave him, so…yeah," Adeline trailed off with a shrug.

"You're…not married, though. I mean, you're wearing your wedding band – or at least I assume it's your wedding band – on a necklace. Did…something happen?" Alistair asked softly, seeing the tired look on her face.

"Vaughan Kendells happened, that's what," she snorted bitterly, shaking her head. "My betrothed's name was Nelaros. He came down from Highever with my cousin's betrothed, Valora – the two of us were supposed to get married on the same day. I only met the man for a few hours before the ceremony – he was…kind to me," Adeline admitted, looking at the ring guiltily. "The Wedding itself never actually happened, though," Adeline added. "It was interrupted a few minutes in when Vaughan came to the Alienage. When he and his friends kidnapped us and took us back to the Arl of Denerim's estate, Nelaros and my cousin Soris were the only ones from the Alienage who tried to rescue us. Nelaros…died protecting me. He bled out right in front of me, and there was nothing I could…" Adeline trailed off, shutting her eyes tightly.

Alistair was quiet, watching her carefully, and he reached out a hand, resting it gently against her forearm. He understood – he remembered seeing what had happened when she had been trapped in the Fade, even if he didn't know what was happening at the time. Adeline took a soft, slow breath, composing herself. "I…after I killed Vaughan, I held off the castle guards as the others escaped. You know the rest of the story," she sighed, rolling the ring gently though her fingers. "Maybe it's simple infatuation…maybe because I owe him my life… Occasionally I think of Nelaros, and I wonder what could have happened if Vaughan hadn't shown up. But…I've come to realize that while maybe we _could_ have made a life together, we didn't. And I've put the past behind me."

Adeline looked up at him with her bright, green eyes, and Alistair moved his hand up to her cheek. She leaned into his touch, her eyes worried. "I'm sorry that I kept this from you for so long. I just wasn't…ready…" she sighed, closing her eyes. "That must sound like a pathetic excuse," she murmured, and Alistair shook his head.

"Not at all – you went through a very traumatic experience. I understand if you didn't feel comfortable talking about it," Alistair replied gently, giving her a small, encouraging smile.

"Thank you, Alistair. You…once said that I was a bright spot in all that's happened to you," Adeline began, shifting slightly and leaning into his embrace, "I think the same. I don't think I could have kept myself together for this long without you. I'm…proud of what you've become; you've grown so much since we first met. And I love you, always," Adeline murmured the last part, and Alistair smiled, wrapping his arms tighter around her and kissing her. He felt a flush of pride go through him at her words, and he embraced her all the tighter, grinning as she laughed and complained good-naturedly that he was crushing her.

"Now," Alistair sighed, shifting slightly as he slid out of bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress, "I think we should get going before I decide to take you back to bed," he grinned, and Adeline laughed, fluttering her eyelashes prettily.

"But would that really be such a bad thing?" she asked, almost innocently, and Alistair felt fire tear through him as she leaned towards him, running her hands over his back. "And I _am_ a desire demon – I know all sorts of things we could try," she added temptingly, her eyes flashing. He knew she would never use Charm on him – he was immune to it anyway – but at the moment, he found that he couldn't have resisted her if he tried. Alistair turned around and pulled Adeline to him, kissing her until they were both dizzy from lack of air, his body locking with hers again as they burned for each other, finding completion in the other's embrace as they melted together.

oooo

After having breakfast in the main hall, the group packed the remainder of their things, bringing them out to the wagon as some servants hitched Dancia to the cart. While the others were distracted –Adeline was asking them for advice as she tried to plan the most efficient rout through the mountains on their way to Haven – Alistair went upstairs and paid Arl Eamon a visit.

He stood by the bedside, looking at the old man sadly. _We'll find a way to cure you. I promise,_ he thought, pausing as he turned to go; Teagan was standing in the doorway, watching him in silence. "Oh. I…didn't see you there," Alistair remarked softly, and Teagan glanced between him and the Arl.

"You know, Eamon never forgave himself for what he did," the Bann began. "Sending you to the monastery," he clarified.

"I…understand that it was a decision not entirely of his own design," Alistair replied carefully; Isolde wasn't in the room, but he couldn't be sure where the Arlessa was. Teagan seemed to notice his wary look, and nodded over his shoulder.

"The Arlessa is sleeping in Connor's room. She is exhausted, both physically and mentally. I know that you cannot forgive her, or Eamon for what they have done, and I will not ask that of you," the Bann murmured. "I only wish to tell you that Eamon never stopped caring about you. When he saw that you refused to see or speak to him at the monastery, he stopped coming because he thought his visits were doing you more harm than good. He has regretted that decision ever since," Teagan explained softly, and Alistair sighed, crossing his arms as he looked back at the Arl.

"I know… He's a good man. You're right that I can't forgive what he's done, and I'm not okay with it…but I know that it's better to move on than to linger on something that can't be changed. I'll see you soon, Bann Teagan," Alistair said politely, brushing past the older man.

"Please, Alistair, Teagan is fine," the man replied, and Alistair glanced back, giving a short nod of acknowledgement. _My…how he has grown,_ Teagan thought as he watched him go, remembering the bright-eyed child that he used to play with out in the courtyard of the castle. No doubt his companion, Adeline, had helped in this respect…but Teagan suspected that the strength had always been there – it just needed to be nurtured and encouraged. The man began to feel, for the first time in a long time, that perhaps everything would be alright.

oooo

The group set out soon after, travelling west of Redcliffe. Alistair and Zevran walked behind the cart, and Alistair noticed the slightly smug look on the Elf's face. _Why is he smirking? I'm not going to like this, am I?_ he thought with dread as Zevran struck up a conversation. "Might I offer you a bit of advice, my good friend Alistair?" the Elf began and Alistair sighed.

"I like my hair the way it is, thank you," the man replied preemptively, and Zevran placed a hand on his chin, looking up at him and contemplating the golden hair.

"Truly? As you wish…though my advice is regarding something else completely," Zevran said with a shrug. A slow, smug look spread over his face, and Alistair watched him warily. "It has to do with your recent… _exertions_ with your fellow Grey Warden that I overheard," he elaborated, and Alistair looked at him oddly.

"My…? Oh," he said, realizing what the assassin meant. He was surprised…but he supposed that he probably should have expected that _Zevran_ of all people would be the first to know. He and Leliana had an uncanny way of sussing out everyone's secrets.

"It did seem as if you just got going when all grew quiet. You are…feeling all right, yes? Perhaps you are tired?" Zevran asked, and Alistair put a hand on his forehead.

"We aren't talking about this, are we? Did I hit my head?" he groaned, checking for a bump somewhere.

"I have some roots from home that you may chew if you need energy. As for volume, perhaps you ought to try arching your–"

" _Whoa!_ _Whoa! Awkward!_ " Alistair cut him off, his voice rising slightly with panic. _Maker's breath! He's_ _ **actually**_ _talking about this!_

"You Fereldans are so finicky. How will you ever learn how to pleasure each other unless you talk about it?" Zevran replied charmingly, and Alistair covered his ears.

"Not listening! La la la la la!"

oOo

Traveling through the Frostback Mountains was tiring, and sudden storms forced us to shelter in small caves that pocketed the mountainsides. The others seemed to notice that Alistair and I had changed – for one, we were sharing a tent – and I sometimes caught Leliana and Zevran smirking at us and teasing Alistair, although they kept it to a minimum with me; they probably thought that I'd strangle them if they tried anything like that. Which I would.

As we lay together in our bedrolls, huddled tightly for warmth, Alistair asked me one night if I knew much Elvish. "I hear you and Neria speaking it sometimes," he explained, and I nodded.

"I know a few words and phrases that Neria and my mother taught me. Simple things like 'please' and 'thank you'," I replied. "I can't read written Elvish, though; I saw a scroll with it once in a market stall back in Denerim. Or at least the proprietor _said_ it was Elvish. It could have been random scribbles for all I know," I shrugged, glancing up at him as I lay with my head on his arm. "You're curious?" I added, and he smiled slightly.

"A little. When I heard you sing the first time, back in Ostagar…I thought the words were so…beautiful. I can't really describe the feeling," Alistair replied, pressing his forehead against mine.

"Here, then, I'll speak a little for you," I said, kissing him, "ma sa'lath; my one love."

"Ma sa'lath," Alistair repeated, and I smiled.

"Lath means love. So in a phrase like…ma emma lath, it translates to – you are my love," I explained.

"Emma lath…my love," Alistair repeated softly, holding me in his arms as we went to sleep.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Note:

Hey, so…um…sorry that I don't write Zevran and Neria's bits in more detail. I already feel self-conscious about Alistair and Adeline. So my and Adeline's opinions are the same – I don't want to know what they're doing, but they're happy, so that's that.


	39. Chapter 39: Haven

Chapter 39

Haven

Author's note:

Wow, over 2000 views! Thank you all for reading, reviewing, following and favoriting! It really means a lot to me :)

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

About a week into our trip, I caught a faint whiff of smoke through the trees, spotting a curling tendril rising up in the distance, a ways west. "Oh! Looks like the directions were right – we've found it," I commented, and everyone seemed relieved to finally have caught sight of Haven.

"Oh good, I was starting to freeze my arse off in this weather," Katja complained, shivering in the light snowfall that had begun.

"It's not even full winter yet, ma falon," Neria chuckled, adjusting her cloak around her shoulders and breathing out a puff of steam.

"Wait, so it gets _colder_ than this?" the Dwarf gasped, and Neria smirked.

"Yep," she grinned, and Katja groaned.

"Adeline, I'm stealing your dog – Olan's sleeping in my tent from now on," the Dwarf told me, more than asked me, and I chuckled.

"Maybe that's for the best – he was giving me the iciest glare yesterday," Alistair added, glancing at Olan, who let out a low, rumbling growl.

"He's just jealous that _you're_ keeping me warm at night, and we don't all fit in the tent," I teased, and the dog made a grumbling sound, glaring at Alistair.

"So you're just using me now, is that right?" Alistair asked, glancing up at me as I leaned back in the driver's seat.

"Aw, you make it sound as if you don't _like_ being used, ma vhenan," I replied, giving him a roguish grin.

"So can't you magic up some warmer clothes or something? Or add more layers to these?" Katja was speaking to Jowan now, who raised an eyebrow at her words.

"Umm…no?" he replied. "That's not how magic works," he added, and the Dwarf girl pursed her lips.

"Huh. I thought you had the power to command nature itself," she remarked. Jowan shrugged, scratching the back of his neck as he adjusted his cloak.

"Well there are rules to magic, you know," he replied. It felt nice – despite the weather – that we were all fairly at ease, chatting and joking amongst ourselves. _Like a big, disfunctional family,_ I thought with amusement.

I felt the wagon creak slightly as Leliana hopped over the back of the seat, leaning against me and looping an arm in mine, the familiar, mischievous gleam in her eyes. "So, you and Alistair…" she began, and I pursed my lips, wanting to feign ignorance for as long as possible – I could almost guess what was coming, by her impish look.

"Alistair and I what?" I replied, glancing at the man from the corner of my eye as Neria started talking to him, making him blush scarlet as she gave him 'advice'.

"You and Alistair. Together, looking contented," Leliana continued. "You even have a… _glow_ about you. So _shameless_ ," she teased, and I looked back at her innocently.

"Shameless?" I echoed, and she waved a hand absently.

"Well, you know…radiating _joy_ and _love_ , while everyone has to face death and the Blight and a bleak future. _Terrible_ , gloating like that," she giggled teasingly. "So, how is Alistair…?" she added, and I bit back a smirk at what she was getting at. I nodded over my shoulder, indicating him.

"You said he looked happy," I replied, and Leliana scowled playfully.

"You know what I mean," she insisted. She moved a little closer, tugging down the edge of my scarf and lightly poking the love bite down by the right side of my throat, grinning as I blushed and batted her hand away. "Alistair, and you…those long nights. He must be quite delightful…you wouldn't be so happy otherwise, I think," she continued, and I pulled my scarf up over my nose, glaring at her as my blush deepened.

"Maker's _breath_ Leliana!" I exclaimed, and she laughed, hugging me around the shoulders and pinching my cheeks playfully.

"Aw, you're _adorable_ when you blush like that!" she teased, and I rolled my eyes. "He's athletic; that's always nice. He is also good at following instructions, isn't he?" she urged and I knew she wasn't going to leave me alone about it.

"Well, I'm very happy with him," I replied vaguely, and she smirked at my response, jostling me teasingly.

"Ooh. Fascinating. The little Templar is all grown up and apparently he…ahem…plays well with others," Leliana grinned, glancing to my left as Alistair walked over, his gaze curious as he saw how red my face had gotten.

"What are you giggling about?" he asked Leliana, who glanced away innocently. "What is she giggling about?" he turned to look at me, and I made a strangled sound in my throat before finding my voice.

"Uh…darkspawn…?" I tried pathetically, and Leliana looked away, nearly in tears with silent mirth at the look of mortification on my face.

"Right. Yes, you're giggling about darkspawn. So funny, them darkspawns!" Alistair exclaimed, not believing a word of it.

"We are just talking about how you treat her in bed. Nothing you should concern yourself with," Leliana replied with an absent wave of her hand, and I covered my entire face with my scarf, turning red to the tips of my ears.

"How I – oh, Maker…what is _wrong_ with you women?" Alistair exclaimed, turning red as well.

"Hey, _you_ had to be the curious one," I muttered, peeking through the folds of my scarf at him.

"I'm actually rather impressed with how long you two were going at it," Leliana continued, and I groaned. "I thought Neria and Zevran would be keeping us up with their shrieking…" Zevran chuckled, and Neria stuck her tongue out playfully at Leliana's observations.

"Alistair you traitor!" I yelled as he escaped to the back of the wagon, his face a deep burgundy.

"I suppose the rumored Grey Warden stamina–" I threw Leliana the reigns before she continued, jumping off the cart and walking to the back until I was behind Sten. The Qunari looked oddly at my red face as I hid behind him, and at Leliana's uproarious laughter, but said nothing.

oooo

We reached the small village around mid-day, housed in a dip in the landscape, sheltered by thick-growing trees. Above the village stood a large building with an odd, spiked arch over the steep pathway, and the shape of it reminded me of a Chantry building. The snow had stopped by now, but the wind was still biting cold, and our cheeks and noses felt raw as we bundled ourselves deeper into our cloaks and scarves. We brought the cart to a halt at the bottom of a steep walkway, and walked slowly up a long path paved with old wooden boards, stopping as we were confronted by a man standing guard just outside of the village.

"What are you doing in Haven? There is nothing for you here," the man said roughly, glowering at us suspiciously. _Well that's rather hostile,_ I thought, shrugging it off.

"So this is Haven?" I asked, looking past the guard and down into the village. He stepped in front of me, crossing his arms as he tried to obscure my view.

"What do you want?" he asked, and I looked at him curiously, trying to be amicable despite his rough speech.

"Is there a Brother Genitivi here?" I tried, and the guard raised an eyebrow.

"Who? Perhaps Revered Father Eirik will know of whom you speak," the guard replied. "Unfortunately, he is ministering to the villagers at the moment, and cannot be disturbed," he added firmly, giving me a pointed look. _A revered…father? Aren't priests always women, though?_ I though, slightly confused by the guard's words.

"Revered father? I have never heard of this," Leliana murmured, looking at the guard quizzically as she voiced my thoughts.

"It has always been thus in Haven. We do not question tradition," the guard replied. I was getting an eerie feeling about the place – something was wrong, but I wasn't quite sure _what_ yet. I could see my companions felt it too, and I nodded towards the guard.

"Might we at least trade for supplies? We can restock, and then we'll go," I said, and the guard nodded back.

"You may trade for supplies at the shop if you wish. Then I suggest you and your companions leave," he urged. Neria, Leliana and Sten went back to retrieve the cart, and it rumbled up over the steep walkway with a bit of difficulty. I noticed the guard watching us carefully as we descended the sheer path down into the village, feeling his eyes boring into our backs as we entered Haven.

Olan was sniffing around cautiously, glancing up at me and giving me a plaintive whine as I patted his shoulder lightly. I looked around suspiciously, feeling a chill run up my back as I looked towards the mountains – something was definitely strange about this place, and I knew I wasn't the only one who felt on edge. Neria's lips were drawn into a tight line, her nose twitching, as if sniffing the air, as her eyes darted around the edges of the houses, her gaze lingering in the shadows between the buildings.

"Did it just get a lot colder? Or is it just me?" Alistair muttered, glancing around the silent village warily, his shoulders tense. Jowan's eyes darted about the place, and he gasped and nearly leapt out of his skin as Katja stumbled over a sudden dip in the ground, catching the back of his robe to stop herself from falling flat.

"I suggest we tread carefully here. Something is amiss," Wynne added, keeping a tight grip on her staff, nervously fingering the runes carved into the wood. I suddenly wished that I had my weapons in my hands, instead of on my belt, and I felt my fingers twitching nervously, glancing again at Neria, who kept a tight grip on the hilt of her dar mi'saan – she always seemed to sense danger before it happened, and I tensed at the wariness in her eyes.

"They are hiding something. 'Tis obvious, is it not?" Morrigan said, and I nodded, feeling the tension in the air as we stopped by a small house, glancing around; no one seemed to be in the town at all. The only sound had been the rumbling of our wagon, but we had left it by what looked like a small paddock near the edge of town, unhitching Dancia and letting her graze.

"Ah, quiet, insular communities. There's always something nasty going on behind closed doors," Zevran sighed, trying to stay upbeat, despite the stillness in the air.

"You _always_ think there's something nasty going on behind closed doors," Wynne replied, watching the Elf as he looked around, shrugging.

"That's because there often _is_ ," he countered. "I hope it involves _chains_. I hope they ask me to join in," he added with a smirk, and Wynne sighed, shaking her head at the incorrigible assassin.

"But where _is_ everyone?" Neria wondered, looking about with narrowed eyes. As we began walking again, Sten glanced down at me, and I nodded, seeing that he wanted to talk.

"Interesting strategy. Tell me; do you intend to keep going north until it becomes south, and attack the archdemon from the rear?" he asked, and I glanced up at him with a slight smirk, despite the pressure in the air.

"It'll never see this coming," I replied, and Sten looked back at me.

"Truly. It would surprise _me_ if my enemy counter-attacked by running away and climbing a mountain," Sten remarked, and I paused, looking up at his disapproving eyes.

"Arl Eamon is ill. That's why we're here," I explained, "I thought you knew that?"

"How will this help him?" Sten asked.

"The…Ashes can heal him," I answered, glancing away. He didn't look convinced.

"I have no doubt of your _faith_. I am beginning to doubt your _sanity_ , however," Sten said, and I opened my mouth to reply – he cut me off with a stern look. "The archdemon is our goal. And we are heading away from it. To find the charred remnants of a dead woman." A bit of frustration crept onto my face – I wasn't the most religious, but this was still the _Prophetess_ he was talking about.

"Reviving the Arl will help us stop Loghain," I argued, and Sten crossed his arms.

"And that is more important than the Blight?" he questioned, and I scowled.

"We can't deal with the Blight while Loghain acts against us," I replied.

"Why?" he asked simply. "His army was broken at Ostagar. He is a solitary old man. Why do you fear him?" My eyes widened at his words, and I glared at the stubborn Qunari.

"I do _not_ fear him! I just need to _stop_ him," I growled, getting frustrated.

"Revenge will not end the Blight. We are wasting effort," Sten said, observing my anger. "You haven't thought this through," he added in a softer tone, and my anger slowly faded. I stared up at him in silence, letting out a small sigh, biting my lip. It was…it was _true_. I hadn't thought this through, or…or _anything_ , really. I tended to come up with a bare-bones plan, leap in, and hope for the best.

"Sten, you'll just have to trust me," I said quietly, and the Qunari looked at me with hard eyes.

"It is not an issue if _trust_ , kadan," he replied sternly, "I trust you with my life," he added more gently, seeing the troubled look in my eyes. "But this is not my life at risk. It is our goal."

"I haven't forgotten what's at stake. Ferelden is my home," I said stiffly, staring at the distant building on the hill, and Sten let out a soft breath.

"Be careful, kadan," he replied quietly, "I have spoken my mind. Let us waste no more time here."

oooo

We came to the village proper, and I glanced to my left as I heard someone singing; a young boy was kneeling next to the body of a dead crow and poking at it with a stick, singing a song. "Come, come, bonny Lynne; tell us, tell us where you've been. Were you up, were you down, Chasing rabbits 'round the town." As the boy sang, he flipped the crow over, and I covered my mouth, feeling a wave of nausea roll over me as I saw the bird's stomach crawling with maggots. Neria let out a soft hiss of distaste through her teeth, covering her nose, and a moment later the stench of carrion hit us. "Come, come, bonny Lynne; tell us, tell us where you've been. Come, come, bonny Lynne; we've a bed to put you in. It is soft, it is warm. It will shelter from the storm. Come, come, bonny Lynne; we've a bed to put you in."

"Oh, now _that's_ creepy," Alistair muttered as he narrowed his eyes, and I nodded feeling ill. There was something very wrong with this place – twisted and cold – and I felt my stomach clenching up as we approached the boy.

"Dear, dear, bonny Lynne sleeps the peaceful crib within. A mossy stone, a finger bone. No one knows but Lynne alone. Dear, dear, bonny Lynne sleeps the peaceful crib within," the boy finished his song, glancing up at our group's approach. He didn't seem frightened by us in the least – in fact, he seemed more suspicious than anything else. "Who are you? You shouldn't be here," he asked, his tone guarded and accusatory.

"Where is everyone else?" I asked, avoiding the question. The boy narrowed his eyes slightly, but shrugged, nodding towards the building up on the hill.

"In the Chantry," he answered simply. "Mother wanted me to go to the Chant…but she doesn't get to tell me what to do anymore! I'm sick of listening to Father Eirik along with the babies and the girls," he complained. "Soon I'll be old enough to go up the mountain and…" he trailed off, as if he had said too much, and I raised an eyebrow.

"And…?" I prompted, and he shook his head.

"Nothing. It's just nicer up there. You lowlanders wouldn't understand," he replied. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" he added, and I shrugged, glancing around the village.

"I bet you're a clever boy. What do you know about Haven?" I asked, and the boy looked back down at the dead bird for a moment before returning his attention to me.

"Haven is Haven…but I have a secret. Do you want to see?" he asked, and I nodded.

"Sure," I replied, and the boy reached into his pocket. He pulled out something small and smooth from his pocket and showed it to me; a finger-bone, bleached white by the sun and polished through constant handling.

"Uh…where did you get that?" I asked awkwardly, and the boy shrugged, pointing up towards the tall mountain that stood behind the Chantry.

"Over by the mountain," he replied. "It's lucky. I keep it with me. Don't tell anyone, alright?" he added, and I nodded.

"Sure thing," I said, watching as the boy ran off. I gazed up at the Chantry, hearing faint sounds carried down by the wind.

"Do you hear it? Singing from the Chantry. The entire town, from the sounds of it," Zevran observed, squinting in the bright sunlight that shone off of the snow-crusted ground.

"They are remarkably in-tune," Oghren added, and I narrowed my eyes at the building.

"Well…maybe we should explore around here a bit more. After what happened near Lake Calenhad…I'd rather not encounter an entire village of murderous lunatics," I muttered, and the others agreed.

As we passed by a house, I paused as Olan let out a low, angry growl, and Neria stared at the door, her nose twitching. A creeping cold formed in my stomach – there was dark magic at work here; it was very faint, but it was there, and it made the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand on end. "What? What is it?" Morrigan asked, seeing our looks, and how our shoulders had stiffened.

"Something is _very_ wrong," I whispered anxiously, walking up to the door and pushing it open – the house was unlocked, and the room was dark, lit only by a pair of small candles in the corner; all the curtains had been drawn shut, and the coppery smell of blood was heavy in the air. I heard Olan making small heaving sounds beside me, whining as we entered, and Neria's lips curled back with distaste. There was a small, rectangular altar pushed up against a wall, blood pooling along the top and dripping down in small rivulets, staining the rug and wooden floor.

"I was not expecting to find something so…unsettling," Leliana whispered, shivering as the door closed behind us with a creak, engulfing us in near darkness. Morrigan and Wynne each held out a hand, and purple and blue flames appeared over their palms, lighting the room a bit more. Jowan walked slowly towards the altar, his arms partially raised, as if he were approaching a dangerous or agitated animal – he was wondering if blood magic was at work here, I supposed, and wanted to be cautious.

"Used for…food preparation, perhaps?" Alistair suggested nervously as he looked at the altar as well, not believing his own words as he watched the rivulets of blood; the liquid was still fresh, and hadn't entirely dried out.

"Uh…meat doesn't bleed that much, right?" I replied quietly, watching as Morrigan walked over to inspect the altar more closely, looking at Jowan, who had placed a finger on the edge of the stones; a slight shiver going through him before he quickly withdrew his hand, looking ill. I joined the pair, seeing that the top of the stone slab held manacles, where someone's arms could be restrained, and a cold chill ran down my back.

"I'm just trying to be optimistic. The other explanation is…slightly more disturbing," Alistair replied quietly, his face paling at the thought.

"This is human blood," Morrigan noted, leaning over the pool and taking a bit of blood on her fingertips, studying it closely. Jowan nodded mutely, looking very disturbed.

"I thought you were a blood mage?" Neria asked him, and he shook his head slowly.

"I've only ever used my own blood, besides darkspawns'," he replied. "This…I'm not entirely sure what this is… Nor do I want to find out…"

"Ugh…Maker…" I muttered, shaking my head and covering my mouth, suddenly feeling sick; the air smelled…vile. There was a cloying darkness that seemed to linger in the air – this place held evil feelings in it, and I felt my skin crawling with unease.

"Squeamish, salroka? Don't you violently behead people?" Katja asked, raising an eyebrow at my pale face.

"… _they_ put up a fight, though. This…this is different," I murmured a reply, trying not to breathe too strongly through my nose. I wobbled, feeling faint, and I leaned against the wall, taking quick, shallow breaths as panic began to rise in my throat.

"Are you alright?" Alistair asked softly, and I nodded slightly, leaning against him.

"This is…old magic. Old _blood_ magic…from before _Tevinter_ , even," I whispered. "It's meant to enslave spirits…" I added, a cold sweat beading on my brow as I shivered.

"This village is not quite what it seems, is it?" Wynne breathed, glancing back at the door as if hearing something. Olan gave a low growl, his ears flattening against his head as he walked over to the front of the house.

The door burst open with a clatter, and men and women carrying small blades and farming equipment ran in, screaming at us and attacking. "By the Maker!" I gasped in surprise, unable to draw my saber in the cramped room as people flooded in.

"Stay back! Wynne, shield us!" Morrigan cried, casting a spell – half of the room was suddenly engulfed in flames, the screaming people being consumed by fire before our eyes as Wynne created a shield around us, Jowan ready to help, should she need extra mana. We stared at the pile of ashes on the floor before us, once Morrigan had released her spell, and I glanced around at my companions.

"…is anyone hurt?" I asked softly, still shocked from the sudden attack. No one had been injured, but Wynne seemed a little weak from casting such a large shield.

"I'll be fine," she replied, when I asked if she needed a short rest.

"Maker's breath, what _was_ that?" Alistair asked, stepping gingerly over the ashes as we exited, looking warily around Haven. The outside was still deathly quiet, as if nothing had even happened. I glanced towards where we had left Dancia; the horse and our wagon were untouched, and I let out a sigh of relief. _Maker…did we just incinerate half the village?_ I thought; but no, the Chant was still going on, undisturbed on the hill. _What kind of place is this, where the villagers will rush to their deaths like that? What's happening here?_

"…I think this has to do with what happened at Lake Calenhad," I replied, and the others nodded. "Things are _very_ wrong here," I murmured, placing a hand on my chin and looking up towards the Chantry, where we could still hear faint strains of the Chant of Light floating down towards us. "I think we should check that shop the guard mentioned – hopefully we're not attacked _there_ too," I suggested, and we walked across the eerily silent village, entering the shop.

We entered cautiously, and I stepped carefully over to the counter, greeting the shopkeeper politely. "Who are you? You're not from Haven…" the man remarked, and I nodded.

"Just some visitors," I replied, and he looked at our group suspiciously.

"We…we don't get very many visitors," he said, and I shrugged. _Yes, and the ones you do are all murdered by angry villagers,_ I thought, trying to keep the scowl from my expression.

"Have you met a man called Brother Genitivi?" I tried. If the guard at the village entrance was lying – which I was quite certain he was – perhaps someone else would let something slip if I kept poking around.

"No…I've never heard that name," the shopkeeper answered.

"Very well," I sighed, nodding politely. I caught the scent of cloves in the air, and Olan trotted across the shop, his claws clicking lightly on the wooden boards as he stopped by a storeroom door, sniffing at the bottom and letting out a bark.

"Can you control your animal?" the shopkeeper asked, suddenly nervous. I walked over to the door, ignoring him and kneeling by Olan.

"What is it boy?" I asked softly, and he made a soft whine, glancing back at the door.

"Do you smell…" Alistair began, and Wynne looked towards the door.

"Cloves?" she finished, and he nodded. He, Wynne and Zevran looked at me, remembering how Weylon's corpse had been covered in cloves to disguise the smell.

"What's back there?" I asked the shopkeeper, and he glanced nervously between me and the door, becoming angry,

"I don't see how that is any of your concern," he replied firmly, crossing his arms and glowering at me.

"It _is_ my concern if you're hiding a _body_ ," I retorted, standing and grabbing the doorknob.

"No! You have no right!" the man yelled, pulling a small knife from under the counter and leaping at me. Olan snarled, attacking the man and biting his wrist; I heard the dull crunch of his bone break under the mabari's powerful teeth, and he screamed, writhing on the floor.

"Wait, don't kill him," I ordered, and the mabari grunted, walking over the man and sitting down on his chest, pinning him to the ground with his weight. "What's going on in this place?" I asked sharply, and the man glared at me.

"I will not speak to you, _heathen!_ " he hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes bulging out in pain. "You'll all rot in hell! Brother Eirik will make sure your death is not a slow one!" Alistair and Wynne gave me surprised looks as I walked over, stepping on the man's broken wrist and grinding it into the wooden boards, making him scream in agony.

"Speak!" I barked, drawing my saber and placing the tip on his throat, my eyes hard as I glared at him.

"Never," he hissed. "I will die before I speak." He spat on me, and I glowered, stepping away; I wasn't getting anything out of him.

"Tch," I muttered, sheathing my blade and walking over to the storeroom door, swinging it open. Inside the room, in a crate near a pair of chests, was the dismembered body of a dead knight, covered in cloves; the sigil on his shield told me that he was from Redcliffe.

"How interesting," Morrigan observed, bending over and lifting out one of the knight's arms, looking it over and inspecting the point where it had been cut. "This was cut cleanly – whoever did this is very skilled," she added, and I made a face.

"Interesting? You find _this_ interesting?" Alistair gaped, staring at the body in the crate, his eyes narrowed in disgust.

"It tells us a great deal about this village. Obviously they are keeping a secret worth killing to hide," the dark-haired woman replied, and I nodded grimly.

"That's true. This body's not too old – only a few days by the look," I added, taking the severed arm as Morrigan handed it to me, putting it gingerly back in the crate and shutting the lid. I promised myself that we would come back and give him a proper funeral when we were done.

"…how can you know that?" Wynne asked oddly, looking at the box.

"I've seen my share of half-decayed corpses in the Alienage. This is a fresh body, relatively speaking," I replied, and she pursed her lips. We tried to tie up the shopkeeper, but he struggled as I asked him more questions, throwing himself on my blade with a scream, damning us with his dying breath. I stared at the limp body with surprise, making a face and sighing, putting him in the storeroom. As the others exited the building, I went around the shop quickly, picking up any valuables I could find to sell later.

I gave a small gasp as I opened a crate in the back, finding a pair of beautifully crafted leather boots, recognizing the smell of the leather from Zevran's dream in the Fade. I carefully tucked them away, saving them to give to him at a less… _life-threatening_ time.

oooo

"Perhaps we should search for answers in the Chantry?" Morrigan suggested as we gathered outside, pointing up towards the building on the hill. The singing was still going on, echoing down towards us as the sun set, painting the town blood red. _Fitting_ , I thought, crossing my arms.

"Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if we walk in on a ritual sacrifice," Katja muttered darkly, shaking her head.

"Hmm…I think I can sense magic…but it feels…strange," Jowan remarked, glancing at Wynne and Morrigan. The two didn't seem to feel anything, and neither did Alistair, but as he brought it to my attention, I realized that there was a strange, crawling sensation that made my skin prickle. I narrowed my eyes, looking up at the building on the hill; the source of the feeling lay beyond that, in the mountains. _Blood magic,_ I thought, letting out a soft sigh – it felt similar to the lingering traces of magic on the ritual altar.

Alistair led the way up the steep slope, stepping on the wooden boards that had been set into the side of the hill to make the ground even. I glanced around nervously, feeling an air of malevolence, as if people were watching us from the shadows, ready to leap out and attack. The others were tense as well, keeping their hands on their weapons, and Olan grunted and let out soft whines, fidgeting nervously as we neared the Chantry.

We entered the building quietly, keeping our guard up – the inside was only faintly lit by a few candles, with fading sunlight filtering in through narrow windows near the ceiling. The entire place felt chilly, and as we walked, I heard a man's voice reciting a sermon, ringing loud and clear through the stone hall.

"…we are blessed beyond measure; we are chosen by the Holy and Beloved to be Her guardians," a voice called, and I spotted an older man in strange robes standing before a horde of villagers, the men and women kneeling before him in prayer. I sensed immediately that he was a mage, and my hand flew to my saber, ready to attack at a moment's notice.

"Humbly, we come before the Holy and Beloved," the villagers chanted. There were dozens of them; I didn't think that so many people could live in such a tiny village…but maybe there were more houses further in the valley? I glanced over my shoulder as I heard Neria murmuring something under her breath in Elvish, making a symbol over her heart, as if warding off evil.

"This sacred duty is given to us alone; rejoice, my brethren, and prepare your hearts to receive Her," the old man said, and the villagers responded.

"Blessed fire cleanse and consecrate our souls." The man held up a crystal chalice, and I felt a violent shudder run down my back as I sensed lyrium, memories of the Joining flashing before my eyes. I took a step away, feeling Alistair place a gentle hand on my back to steady me. Jowan was staring at the cup with wide eyes, confirming my suspicion – the cup contained blood.

"Lift up your voices, and despair not, for She will raise Her faithful servants to glory when Her–" the old man stopped, spotting us by the entrance, an expectant look on his face at our arrival. He put down the chalice and walked over to us, crossing his arms and stroking his beard, his voice smooth as he spoke. "Ah…welcome. I heard we had visitors wandering about the village. I trust you've enjoyed your time in Haven so far?" he asked, his eyes darting between our large group.

I bit my lip, controlling my temper at his calm words. "We are _well_ past pretending this village is normal," I retorted, and the man let out a small, derisive snort as he looked me over carefully. The villagers behind him got to their feet, watching us suspiciously, their eyes moving over our arms and armor without any trace of fear.

"Perhaps, but staying hidden means staying protected – and we must protect Haven and our charges at all costs," his voice rose slightly, his icy blue eyes glaring at me with unguarded hostility. "We don't owe you any explanations for our actions. We have a sacred duty; failure to protect Her would be a greater sin. All will be forgiven," his voice softened to a deadly whisper, and he lowered his arms, his fingers relaxing by his sides. _Mage_ , I reminded myself, tensing – I was not looking forward to another lightning-bolt to the chest. "Brothers and sisters, you know what must be done," the man added, looking around at the villagers, and they slowly approached, drawing small, curved knives from their clothes, glaring at us.

They attacked us, going for Wynne, Jowan and Morrigan first, seeing their staves and recognizing them as mages. Alistair, Oghren and Sten held them off, the unarmored villagers posing little threat to us. The _real_ threat was the revered father, who had begun reciting an incantation, a circle of light appearing around him as he cried out. Alistair was too close to our own mages to nullify the man's magic, and Katja and Neria were too busy keeping the villagers from overwhelming the three warriors to take him out from a distance.

Zevran and I ran at him, trying to take him down before he could finish casting, and Leliana drew her bow, aiming for the man's head. I gasped, my legs stiffening, and I felt a hard, creeping feeling crawling up my calves, stopping me in my tracks. Glancing down, I saw jagged bits of stone climbing up my thighs, crackling and moving quickly over my body as they hardened, and I cried out, unable to move as the stones closed over my chest and head.

Everything was pitch black, and I couldn't shift an inch, spiked stones pressing lightly into my skin, ready to prick into it if I budged – I was afraid to even _try_ to break out; what if I fell over and impaled myself on the jagged thorns? It was suffocatingly tight, and I could hardly breathe, panic rising in my throat at my confinement in this coffin of stone.

Loud banging and crashing echoed through the stones, and the revered father screamed, falling as Olan snarled and growled, leaping and tearing out the man's throat. "Hold her still," Alistair's voice called, and I felt a slight vibration as someone held the stones confining me steady. The coffin crumbled around me, dissolving into pebbles and rolling off as Alistair cleansed the area of magic, and I fell on my hands and knees, shivering. I took a few deep breaths, taking Alistair's hand gratefully as he helped me to my feet.

"…thank you," I breathed, swallowing my fear as he patted my back gently, making sure I was alright.

"Well…now what? We've just killed our only lead," Neria stated, and I glanced around the room, investigating.

"…maybe not," I replied, going into one of the side rooms and looking around intently for any clues – the wall looked strange in places, and when I pushed against the bricks, I felt the wall give way a bit. It was heavy, though; this needed two or more people to open it. I braced my shoulder against the wall as the others came into the room, helping me push the bricks and revealing a hidden room.

A barely conscious man was in the candlelit chamber, lying on the ground and staring up at us; his face was drawn and pale, and his leg was injured, the scent of dried blood wafting towards me as I walked over carefully. "Who are you? They…they've sent you to finish it?" he asked, wear in his eyes. He looked starved and dehydrated, and his eyes were glazed with pain.

"Are you Brother Genitivi?" I asked gently, kneeling next to him. Wynne knelt by his other side, her eyes scanning over his injuries.

"You're…you're not one of them…thank the Maker," he breathed, running a hand over his receding hair, his dark-grey eyes shining with relief.

"Are you alright?" I asked, and he looked at me scathingly.

"What do you think? Weeks of scant food and water, the torture…oh, I've never felt better!" he retorted, and I crossed my arms.

"Alright, I get it," I replied, trying to be patient.

"I apologize. I shouldn't be rude. You're here to help," the old man sighed, looking up at me gratefully. "The leg's not doing so well and…and I can't feel my foot," he explained, and Wynne looked over his wounds carefully, nodding.

"I can set the leg and ease some of the pain, but he'll need a lot of rest in order to heal properly," she explained, and Brother Genitivi let out a small, impatient snort, shaking his head.

"I don't have _time_ to rest now. I'm so close. The Urn is just up that mountain," the man explained, and my eyes widened.

"You're not in any shape to be climbing mountains, brother," Alistair said sternly, and Brother Genitivi glared up at him.

"Broken ribs be cursed! I'm not abandoning decades of research!" the old man asserted, and I exchanged looks with Wynne as she tended the man's leg.

"You're a tough old man, aren't you," I observed, a faint smile on my lips.

"My faith gives me strength. Faith, with a liberal sprinkling of curiosity," he replied, sighing as he felt Wynne's healing magic take effect, easing his pain. "Haven lies in the shadow of the mountain that holds the Urn. There is an old temple there, built to protect it. The door is always locked, but I know what the key is," he explained.

"What do you mean, 'what the key is'? Is it not a…well, a _key?_ " Katja asked, confused.

"Eirik wears a medallion that opens the temple door… I've seen what he does with it," Brother Genitivi said, and I cocked an eyebrow.

"How do you mean?" I asked, and he nodded towards the main hall of the Chantry, behind us.

"The medallion is like…a puzzle box… I will show you, if you bring it to me," he replied, and I nodded. "Eirik has always worn it. It must be on his body. Search for it. It is the only way into the mountain."

I went back to the main hall, checking over the revered father's body and retrieving the amulet, bringing it back to Brother Genitivi, who looked over it carefully. "Is that it?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Yes, that is your key. Take me to the mountainside, and I will show you," he replied.

"Wait, maybe we should rest," I suggested. "It's getting late, and it's dangerous to climb in the dark," I added, before Brother Genitivi could argue. He sighed, agreeing, and we set about preparing for the night. Dancia could take care of herself – we had left her in an area with plenty of grass, despite the snow – and we didn't want to risk getting attacked by more villagers on the way back to the cart. We settled down in the small room, Jowan and I taking first watch by the door as the rest of the group huddled together for warmth.

I stared out into the dark hall, sitting with a candle next to me and wrapped in my cloak and scarf, leaning against the wall and looking at Jowan, who was similarly bundled up. "Jowan…" I began softly, and he glanced over, nodding. "That chalice…it wasn't… _human_ blood, was it?" I asked, and he looked at me with surprise, shaking his head.

"No, it wasn't," he replied. "I…I'm not sure what it _is_ thought; it's not anything familiar," he admitted, blowing hot air between his fingers and pulling his robes tighter around himself. "There was lyrium in it, too," he added.

"Mmm…I wonder what kind of ritual they were doing…?" I murmured, my breath coming out in a soft puff of steam.

"How did you know it was blood?" he wondered, and I cocked my head. "And please don't say lucky guess. I'm not _that_ stupid," he added, and I felt a small smile tug at my lips.

"It…well…" I shrugged slightly, lowering my voice. "There was a ceremony involving blood and lyrium that I had to partake in. It's how Grey Wardens are made – how we take in the taint," I explained. He knew that Alistair and I were tainted already; it would only be a matter of time before he realized that _our_ taint was different from normal Blight sickness, if he hadn't already figured it out. "But don't say anything to the others," I added, and he nodded.

oooo

We traveled up the mountainside the next morning, Brother Genitivi leaning against Neria and me for support as we hiked, chattering about his research, and about the Urn. He told us that Haven was home to a group of cultists calling themselves the 'disciples of Andraste', and that they were guarding the Urn of Sacred Ashes, keeping it hidden and killing or imprisoning any who sought it.

We stopped at a grand arch carved into the mountain, walking into the ancient temple cautiously and keeping an eye out for cultists as we entered, stopping before a pair of ornately carved doors. "Here we are. Give me the medallion, and let's see if I remember," Brother Genitivi prompted, and I handed him the amulet, watching as he fiddled with the small metal bits. "Yes…you see, it can be manipulated, just like this…" he mumbled, twisting the medallion. "And there…a key to open the way," I heard faint clicks as the medallion settled into a different shape.

"How intricate. I wonder who created that?" Leliana mused, looking at the medallion with curious eyes.

"It may have been passed down through the generations from the first people who built the temple," Brother Genitivi replied, inserting the key into the lock, hearing a faint click as the door was unlocked. We opened the door, entering a grand chamber, ornate arches and pillars decorating the room and lining the walls. Snow and ice coated the floor and walls, covering everything in a fine layer of white; one of the walls was open to the mountainside, letting in the elements. A roaring fire stood in the center of the room, on a round platform that was raised a step off the floor.

"Maker's breath…" I murmured in awe, staring at the grand room.

"What I would give to have seen this hall in all its splendor, as it was meant to be..." Brother Genitivi breathed, his eyes bright as he looked around. "Still, sweep away the ice and the snow, and traces of beauty remain."

"We…we need to stay alert, brother; if there's a fire, it means the cultists were here recently," I said, tearing my eyes from the walls and glancing at the old man. The others were looking about as well, and Zevran muttered softly about the cold, rubbing his arms and looking towards the open mountainside.

"I'm sorry...what? I was a little distracted. I apologize," Brother Genitivi replied absently, still staring at the carvings along the walls and pillars. "These carvings were created just after Andraste's death, and they may reveal things about Her life that we do not yet know…" he murmured, half to me, half to himself. "I think I need more time to study these statues and carvings," he added.

"You want to stay? But is it safe here?" Wynne asked, looking around the hall cautiously.

"I could not keep up with you with my injuries. I should be safe; I don't think there are any villagers here," Brother Genitivi remarked, leaning against the sturdy stick I had picked up for him on our way up the mountain, using it like a cane. "Go. I will be all right. Perhaps my destiny was only to lead _you_ to the Urn," he added, and I nodded, patting his shoulder gently.

"Thank you, brother; you've been a great help to us," I thanked him. "Is there anything else we need to know about the temple?" I added, and he looked around at the carvings, thinking.

"It was designed to protect the Urn from those who would steal it, or do harm to it – namely, the Tevinter Imperium," he replied, and I nodded.

"So…traps? Spiky walls crushing us…floors dropping out from under us…giant boulders rolling down hallways…?" I suggested, and the old man shrugged.

"I'm not sure. The legends were never very specific on that point," he replied, closing his eyes and reciting some lines. "Only the faithful shall lay eyes on the Sacred Ashes; death and misfortune await the unbeliever. The Maker's gaze has fallen on Andraste's final resting place. He weeps for His Beloved, and His wrath at Her betrayers endures."

"…well _that's_ not ominous in the slightest," Zevran muttered.

"That is what the legend says, and the Maker may indeed watch this place," Brother Genitivi remarked, crossing his arms and stroking his chin. "Read between the lines, however, and you'll understand that it is merely a simple truth draped in hyperbole and metaphor. After all, no one wants to hear, 'Willy toiled for many a year to perfect the curious mechanisms that would send a sharpened spike up the arse of the unwary intruder.'"

"Oh…how pleasant," Katja remarked, her eyes narrowing as she glanced up ahead, not so eager to get going.

"I think my decision to stay here was the best one, don't you?" the old man smiled, and I snorted.

"Right. Just keep an eye out for trouble," I nodded.

"I'll be right here if you need me," he replied, limping along the wall and inspecting the carvings. "Mm…now, I need something to write on…" he murmured, talking to himself. Olan remained behind to guard the man, and I patted the dog's neck, telling him to keep his eyes open for trouble.

"I can't believe all this is still standing! This temple must be thousands of years old," Leliana breathed, her eyes wide in awe as we walked through the main chamber.

"By the shifting skies of the Fade…this is…magnificent," Wynne agreed, looking up at the soaring ceiling.

"It is, isn't it?" I replied, my eyes bright.

oooo

We traveled to a narrow hallway off to the side, finding the main door at the top of the stairs had been locked; we hoped to find a key in one of the side rooms, moving cautiously through the snow-layered hallways but encountering no one. It was quiet here, but not as eerie as back in the village – this was a peaceful quiet, and I felt almost…calmed by it. No one spoke as we walked, and I paused as we came to a room with a cabinet – I went through it and found a box of tapers, wondering what they were for.

"You're going to pick that up…just in case?" Alistair asked as I took one, and I shrugged.

"We pick up pretty much everything else that isn't nailed down," I replied simply. "And the box looks more recently moved than anything else in the cabinet, besides – it might come in handy," I added, and he nodded, seeing the layer of dust on everything else.

I went over to the bookshelf across from the cabinet, looking at the books; many were ruined, but a few remained intact. Wynne joined me, spotting a particular tome covered in dark, dusty leather. "Oh my, I never thought I'd see one of these again!" she exclaimed, pulling it off the shelf.

"What have you found?" I asked, reading the cover curiously. "Discovering Dragon's Blood: Potions, Tinctures, and Spicy Sauces?" I read, raising an eyebrow.

"It could be useful," the elderly mage argued, and I smiled.

"Without a doubt," I replied.

"Oh, so the southern peoples _do_ read. I thought that was a myth," Sten said, joining us and looking at the books. I rolled my eyes at the Qunari, returning to the others as we continued through the silent temple. We came across a few cultists, lightly armed, and backed up by mages. Leliana, Katja and Morrigan focused their ranged attacks on the mages, trying to take them out first as the rest of us dealt with the other cultists.

There were four side-doors in total, leading from the main chamber with the fire, and we explored them all, searching for a key that would open the grand doors at the head of the hall. We encountered small groups of cultists throughout the corridors, making sure to take care of them so they wouldn't go into the main chamber, where Brother Genitivi was still studying the carvings on the walls. One group of cultists had a bronto with them, oddly enough, and Oghren and Katja wondered where they had found it; the creatures were only ever found underground.

We found an ornate chest in one of the last rooms of a side corridor, and opening it, I found a glistening black pearl. _Huh. Looks like that pearl that came from the Sloth demon,_ I thought, looking at the object oddly. "I…wouldn't touch that if I were you. It doesn't look…right," Alistair warned when he saw it, and I nodded, taking out a small cloth handkerchief and wrapping the pearl in it, tucking the small orb into my pocket.

Eventually, after hours of searching, we found a large, iron key that we were nearly _praying_ would open the door of the main chamber. I slid it into the lock, letting out a sigh as we heard the faint click, the carved doors sliding open silently on hidden hinges.

We were immediately attacked by more cultists as we entered, and two strange creatures appeared out of nowhere, seeming to be made of ash and old cloth, shrieking at us and scratching with long, clawed talons. They burned fairly quickly when Morrigan and Jowan lit them on fire with their spells, though, telling us to concentrate on the cultists and leave them to the mages.

Once we had dealt with the cultists and the wraiths, I walked slowly around a strange brazier, wood already placed, waiting to be lit. "See? I _told_ you a taper would come in handy," I said to Alistair, walking over to one of the torches on the wall and lighting the thin candle, cupping the flame gently as I moved. I knelt by the brazier, holding the flame to the dried wood and watching it catch on fire, burning brightly.

"You know, one of us could have just–"

"Let her have her moment, Jowan," Neria interrupted with a smirk, and I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, you've lit a fire. What now?" Sten asked, not impressed with the development.

"Mmm…" I wondered, crossing my arms and staring between the brazier and the door. "Well, I thought this was some sort of puzzle – why else would a brazier be attached to floor directly in front of a locked door?" I asked, chewing on my lip in thought.

"Perhaps that pearl you found earlier is the key?" Morrigan suggested, and I cocked my head at her, giving her a questioning look. "Those wraiths we fought – before they disintegrated, I thought I caught a glimpse of a small, round object in their heads. A pearl, perchance," she explained.

"I'll give it a shot. Everyone take a step back, and keep on guard – for all we know, I could just be creating another wraith," I warned, and everyone nodded, keeping their weapons raised as I took the pearl out of my pocket, carefully unwrapping it and dropping it into the fire, my gloves protecting my bare fingers from the odd chill that permeated the air around the object. The flame licked over the dark orb, and I heard a sharp crack as the pearl broke, a darkness sweeping over the flame as it turned black and purple. A faint click sounded, and the doors swung open.

"That is a very strange security system; black pearls are not exactly common," Zevran remarked, looking warily at the dark flame.

"Indeed," Leliana replied, giving the unnatural blaze a wide berth as we continued on. After clearing the next room of cultists and wraiths, we decided to rest for the night, barring the doors around the chamber and setting a watch schedule so that we wouldn't be taken by surprise.

oooo

"I'm not exactly eager to shut my eyes in a place like this," Leliana breathed, looking around warily, warming her hands by the small fire we had set up.

"I know, but it's been a long day, and it would be foolhardy to go stumbling through ruins while we're exhausted," I replied, patting her shoulder. We were on first watch, and we stood, walking to the edge of our small camp and looking warily up at the statue by the head of the hall, a door nearby.

"Are you feeling better about what happened with Marjolaine?" I asked Leliana softly, and she nodded, glancing back at the fire.

"Yes…a little better," she admitted, smiling weakly. "Time heals all wounds, so they say. Scars remain but they are just…colors in the painting that is my life, no?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were all right," I took her hand in mine and gave an encouraging squeeze.

"I wish things had happened differently, but knowing her and knowing me, I don't think it could have," Leliana sighed, gazing down at our hands. "We had good times though, and I look back on those fondly. Whatever happened after will never change the truth of the past," she added.

"She was special to you, wasn't she?" I asked softly, and she nodded.

"Yes, once, a long time ago. She was a worldly woman and there was so much she knew and was willing to share with me. I would have done anything for her, once," Leliana recalled, a hint of fondness in her tone.

"I'm sorry it ended so badly," I apologized softly.

"She used to be different. Happier, I think. She loved music…and had a weakness for sugary cakes… Maybe she was always lying about who she was, or maybe she changed over the years," Leliana murmured, giving a weak shrug.

"You should remember the good things about her, and don't linger on the bad," I tried, and Leliana nodded, smiling a bit as I tried to help.

"Yes. Now I have new friends, a new family… In spite of it all, life…life is good," she said, looking as if a weight had been lifted off her chest. We switched watches with Oghren and Zevran after a few hours, and I walked over to where Alistair was sitting by the fire. He looked slightly troubled as he gazed into the flames, and I leaned over him, resting my chest against his back and wrapping my arms over his shoulders, pressing a kiss into his hair.

"You should get some rest, love," he said softly, placing a hand on my arm, "long day tomorrow."

"Mmm…true," I sighed, sitting down next to him, and he wrapped an arm around me as I rested my head on his shoulder. "Don't worry Alistair, we'll save Arl Eamon," I promised, assuming that was what had been troubling him.

"I know we'll try. I just…have the tiniest bit of doubt that all of this is real. What if the Urn's not there? What if it doesn't work?" he asked, and I frowned, leaning against him.

"…I don't know. Bann Teagan will become the new Arl of Redcliffe, I suppose, since Connor's a mage – mages can't hold titles, from what I understand," I said, and Alistair sighed, resting his chin on my head. "We can only pray that the Ashes are here, and that he can hold out until we return."

"I know. I should have more faith," he replied, smiling at me as I glanced up at him. "Now go to sleep – I've kept you up long enough," he added, patting my shoulder lightly.

"What about you?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"In a little while. I need to…think about some things," he sighed, seeming troubled again.

"Alright. Sleep tight," I said softly, laying out my bedroll and curling up, drifting off to sleep.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	40. Chapter 40: The Urn of Sacred Ashes

Chapter 40

The Urn of Sacred Ashes

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Alistair closed his eyes as he felt the warmth of the flames against his skin. He was tired, but he was also troubled, and he knew he wouldn't get to sleep until his thoughts were sorted out. _I want Eamon to wake up…to be okay, but…_ He opened his eyes, looking at the campfire for a few moments before glancing over his shoulder at Adeline. She had fallen asleep fairly quickly – she must have been exhausted, he thought. She had been getting better at suppressing her nightmares over the past few weeks – she told him that she had actually gone an entire week without dreaming of the archdemon.

What bothered him, however, was their future together. _When Eamon wakes up, he's going to want to make me king. It's…a bold move, but I can see that it's probably our only chance at getting Loghain out of power,_ Alistair admitted reluctantly. _But…Adeline's an Elf. If I were king… I…would have to end our relationship. No one will accept an Elf as queen, even if she were the hero of Ferelden and managed to stop the Blight almost singlehandedly. I…hope there's another way to handle this… I really do,_ Alistair thought, almost praying that there was.

Katja could see that Alistair seemed troubled. She had seen the way he had looked at Adeline, and had guessed that his worry had to do with their relationship. The Dwarf walked quietly over, sitting down and watching the man until he glanced at her. "Something you need, Katja?" he asked gently, and the girl shrugged.

"You looked troubled, is all," she replied, and Alistair frowned at the fire.

"That easy to read, am I?" he murmured, and she chuckled.

"Only when it comes to her," Katja teased, nodding towards Adeline. Alistair sighed, running a hand over his forehead and shutting his eyes.

"She came to me before we went to Denerim, you know?" he began. "She warned me that we might not have a future together. That I might have to become king, even if I don't want to…" Katja was silent, listening as Alistair told her his troubles. "Maybe I should have listened to her. Maybe it would have been easier then, but now…" he shook his head, smiling a sad, helpless smile into the fire, "now I can't imagine being without her." He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking in a slow, steadying breath. "But…I don't know. I can't…I can't ask her to become queen; even if she wanted to, the nobility wouldn't accept a commoner. Even if she were human. I…don't know what to do."

Katja was quiet for a long time, knitting her fingers together and resting her arms on her knees as she watched Alistair. "Well you know," she began softly, standing and patting him on the shoulder, "no one can force a king to do anything he doesn't want. And that includes picking his wife, despite what the other nobles have to say."

Alistair stared at the fire in silence, mulling her words over. _Maybe…maybe she's right,_ he thought, standing slowly and walking over to Adeline, who was shivering in her bedroll. He laid out his own sleeping mat next to hers, pulling her into his arms and covering them with the blankets, smiling slightly as Adeline curled up tightly against his chest. "Ar lath ma," he whispered into her hair, closing his eyes.

oooo

The hall that the group had chosen to follow led into an elaborate cave system, roughly carved stone passages twisting and turning as they tunneled into the mountain. In this cave system, in addition to traps and more cultists, the party encountered small groups of dragonlings, and young drakes. The creatures seemed to be coming from everywhere, and everyone stopped, staring around in astonishment as they came to a large room filled with unhatched dragon eggs. They were lined up on a long table, the eggs as large as pumpkins, and some larger – those were close to hatching.

As they looked around, Jowan swore under his breath – he had bumped a large rat cage off the table with his elbow, and the metal made a loud clattering crash as it hit the ground. Everyone flinched, glaring at him, and the mage raised his hands up defensively. The echoing squeaks of dragonlings resounded through the halls, and they all groaned, getting ready for battle.

"Great going, Spazzie McGee – if they didn't know we were here before, they do now," Katja snorted, and Jowan scowled at her, but remained silent, focusing on taking out the dragonkin as the group moved into a tight formation.

"This is bad," Alistair remarked as they traveled though the passages, stepping back as more dragonlings leapt at him with small, razor-sharp teeth, cutting them down with a quick thrust of his sword. "If the cultists are keeping all of these dragonlings and drakes…there's going to be a female dragon somewhere nearby – some of the dragonlings look newly-hatched," he muttered darkly, and some of the others turned pale at his words.

"I hope we can avoid meeting this dragon… I do not relish the thought of being devoured," Zevran replied, glancing around warily. His grip tightened slightly on his blades as he listened intently, hearing the growls and chirrups of young dragons in the halls ahead.

The deeper into the caverns they went, the more enemies appeared – at points, the group was nearly swarmed with mixed cultists and dragonlings, and only Morrigan, Jowan and Wynne's spells held them off long enough for the others to recover. Going down a side hall, they found a room with cages holding livestock, used to feed the drakes and dragonlings; as they entered, they felt the ground rumbling beneath their feet, and drakes poured out of the hallway, roaring and breathing fire.

"Maker's breath!" Adeline gasped as she plunged her saber into the last drake's throat, staring at the giant reptile. "Are these… _bigger_ than the others?"

"They must be older," Leliana replied, not liking the look of the creatures, even when dead.

"Hmm…maybe I can make a necklace out of the teeth…" Adeline heard Neria mutter, looking at the dead drakes with a critical eye. "I hear that you can make armor out of drake scales – flame resistant," she added, catching Adeline's incredulous look as she sat down and began to skin the beast. Adeline almost yelled at her, but fell silent as some of the others got to work skinning the other drake.

"You should help," Leliana remarked, "this is going to be _your_ armor, one day, since you're the most reckless of us," she added, and Adeline groaned.

"Flaming _Andraste_ …" the Elf sighed, getting on her knees next to Neria and helping her cut the scales from the dead beast. They headed off once they had finished, rolling the pelts up and storing them in the hatchery, planning to retrieve them later.

oooo

Eventually, the group reached a wide, open cave, giant stalagmites and stalactites connecting to create pillars – it was like a cathedral, deep beneath the mountain. Up ahead, standing between a pair of armored guards, was a man with black hair and beard wearing dark, medium armor that shone faintly in the torchlight. At the group's approach, he glared, holding up a hand and calling out.

"Stop! You will go no further," he commanded.

"And are you to stop us?" Sten growled beside Adeline, staring the man down – even the Qunari's patience was wearing thin with the cultists at this point.

"You have defiled our temple. You have spilled the blood of the faithful, and slaughtered our young," the man hissed, glaring at the large group. "No more. You will tell me now, intruder, why you have done all this. Why have you come here?" the man ordered, glowering at Adeline with contempt and walking right up to her, forcing the short woman to look up at his imposing figure.

"We search for the Urn of Sacred Ashes," she replied coolly, keeping her expression level, not backing down an inch. Her hands moved slowly to her belt, resting lightly on the hilts of her weapons, should the man become hostile.

"You did this all for an ancient relic? Know this, stranger…" he began, sounding almost disgusted with the Elf, "the prophet Andraste has overcome death itself and has returned to Her faithful in a form more radiant than you can imagine!" the man cried, turning and walking away dramatically, speaking with his back to the group as he looked further away into the cave. He swung back around, looming over Adeline threateningly, but the girl didn't flinch. "Not even the Tevinter Imperium could hope to slay Her now. What hope do _you_ have?" he asked, scowling at her.

"But…what of the Ashes?" Adeline replied, crossing her arms as the man looked at her with contempt.

"They are still within this temple, but why do we need ashes when we serve the risen Andraste in all Her glory?" he said, and Adeline shrugged.

"You treat the Ashes with such disdain," she observed, and the man snorted, shaking his head.

"What are they but the remains of a mortal woman?" he almost spat, and Adeline felt some of the others stiffening behind her, bristling at the man's sharp words; Alistair, Leliana, Wynne, and even Zevran were giving the man disapproving looks.

"Then you should have no qualms about giving them to me," Adeline replied stiffly, anger rising in her throat at his words.

"So you are after the Ashes. Hmm…" he remarked. "Perhaps there is a way for you to make up for your desecration of our home and temple," the man murmured, stroking his beard in thought as he paced around slowly.

"Why do you suddenly want to cooperate with us?" Alistair asked suspiciously, his eyes quickly sweeping around the room for an ambush as the man distracted them.

"It may be because I believe in second chances. All of us stumble through the darkness before being found and shown the light," the man explained. "Perhaps through Andraste's mercy, Her greatest enemy will become her greatest champion."

"…I'm listening," Adeline said, still on guard, her fingers resting lightly on the handles of her blades.

"Allow me to introduce myself: I am Father Kolgrim. I lead the Disciples of Andraste," the man said with a slight bow. "The Ashes you seek reside atop this mountain, watched by an immortal guardian who refuses to accept the truth of the risen Lady," Kolgrim explained, and Adeline raised an eyebrow. "Now the Ashes prevent holy Andraste from fully realizing Her new form. They are a remnant of Her past incarnation, and She cannot move on as long as they exist."

"So…what? You want to toss them out a window? I'd be happy to take the Urn off your hands," Adeline replied, and Kolgrim shook his head.

"I speak not of destruction. The Beloved needs to reclaim the Ashes, to make them Her own again. All it would take is a drop of Her blood," at his words, Adeline froze, staring at him in silent outrage. "Blood carries power, strength, knowledge. Through it, all the power that is held in the Ashes will be returned to our Lady."

"This is wrong," Leliana muttered under her breath, glaring daggers at Kolgrim as he explained.

"The Guardian has foiled all our attempts to reach the Urn. He keeps what power remains from the true Andraste. He knows the Disciples, and we cannot touch him, for he draws his strength from the Ashes themselves. But you could deliver our Lady what is rightfully Hers," Kolgrim finished.

"I could just imagine the Grand Cleric, if she were here. Her head would explode; I kid you not," Alistair remarked.

"What is this talk of blood and power? And he thinks Andraste is reborn? It is preposterous! Oh, I do not like this," Leliana shook her head, still glaring.

"There is nothing but madness in his words. He is a fanatic, and a dangerous one. Be warned – he means to lead you astray," Wynne cautioned.

"The rewards for performing such a service would be great indeed," Kolgrim tempted, and Adeline kept her expression calm as the man spoke, barely managing to contain the seething outrage at his plan to desecrate the Ashes of the Prophetess.

"What makes you think I can do this?" she asked levelly. _That I would even_ _ **want**_ _to do this?_

"Many have been led here, but only you had the fortitude and skill to survive the temple. You were led here by Andraste's hand to do Her work. The task is simple; I give you a vial of the holy Andraste's blood, and you empty the vial into the Ashes. Whatever magic was held in the Ashes will be undone…and our great Lady will be freed from the shackles of Her past life," Kolgrim explained.

"And what? Encourage the worship of a large lizard?" Sten scoffed, shaking his head. "Consider your actions carefully," he added to Adeline.

"I will _not_ help you defile the most holy relic in all of Thedas," the Elf said to Kolgrim, who stared at her, aghast.

"The rewards will be great. You will share in Andraste's power and be blessed as one of Her own," he argued, trying to tempt her, but she shook her head firmly.

"I cannot do what you want," Adeline repeated, and Kolgrim's brow furrowed, his expression hardening.

"Then we cannot allow you to leave here," he growled. "To arms, my brethren! Andraste will grant us victory!" he roared, charging.

There were three of the cultists in the room, but as they charged the group, dragonlings and drakes poured out from side tunnels, roaring and breathing gouts of flame. Adeline fell back – she had been closest – and allowed the three warriors to charge past, holding off the main force. Leliana and Neria focused on shooting at the drakes' eyes, and Adeline grabbed a pair of ice grenades from her belt that she had been working on with Katja, glancing at the Dwarf rogue as she hurled a handful of caltrops at the cultists' feet.

Adeline lobbed the pair of grenades at the dragonkin, one at each side of the swarm, and the glass shattered as it hit the ground, exploding outward in a frigid mist that froze several of the beasts in place. The warriors managed to take down the three cultists, and began battling the dragons until nothing was left standing. The group looked around, sheathing their weapons and gasping for breath as Wynne began treating their injuries.

Jowan knelt next to Kolgrim, taking the vial of dragon blood the man had been holding and examining it, realizing that _this_ had been the unfamiliar blood he had sensed in the chalice, down by the base of the mountain. _These cultists were…drinking_ _ **dragon's**_ _blood?_ he thought with surprise, tucking away the vial to examine more carefully later.

"So you kill, now, in the name of your god?" Morrigan asked Adeline as she inspected a bite on her arm, and the Elf stared at her.

"What?" she said, her eyes wide with astonishment. "He attacked us first!" she retorted, and Morrigan crossed her arms.

"You could have taken him up on his offer. Take some of the Ashes for Arl Eamon and taint the rest – I do not look forward to facing a dragon, should it attack us now that it smells fresh blood," she replied.

"I can't do that, Morrigan. I know this means…probably nothing to you, but I can't destroy the Ashes. I'm…" Adeline trailed off, shrugging slightly. "I'm sorry, if my decision has upset you," she apologized. Morrigan was looking at her oddly, shaking her head. _A demon, of all things, defending the ashes of a dead woman whose disciples dedicate their lives to killing her kind. Utterly ridiculous,_ the dark-haired woman thought with exasperation.

"We should go before any more cultists show up," Alistair prompted, seeing the tension between the two women. He wondered what was wrong – usually it was _Adeline_ playing peacekeeper with him and Morrigan, not the other way around.

"Right," Adeline replied, leading the group up through the cave. She seemed a bit nervous, running a hand uneasily through her hair.

"Hey, is something wrong?" Alistair asked her gently, speaking softly as he came up next to her. She shrugged, glancing up at him with a look of worry on her face.

"Well, there's a dragon ahead. I'm not exactly thrilled with the possibility of facing it," she joked, although the humor didn't reach her eyes.

"Don't worry, we'll figure something out," he assured her, patting her shoulder.

"I hope so," she murmured.

oOo

The tunnels became more refined as we went until they were ruined hallways once more, leading out onto a grand bridge that crossed a mountaintop. The bridge was broken and scattered across the way, and the flat stretch of mountain reeked of sulfur. Ruins lay along the sides of the stones, and far ahead, we could see the gate towards what looked like another section of the temple. We squinted in the blinding light of day, the wind harsh around us, and I shaded my eyes, seeing something in the distance. "Get down!" I yelled, and we all dove for cover as a huge form shot by overhead, letting out a roar.

She was beautiful, her wings the color of sunset, with horns like polished silver blades; looking at her took my breath away, and I could almost see why the cultists could worship such a spectacular beast. She landed on a great stone ledge, lying down and folding her front legs underneath her, like a cat, resting her head at the edge of the cliff and gazing down on us.

"A high dragon? We're not…planning on actually _fighting_ it, are we? Couldn't we just…sneak around it?" Zevran suggested, and I nodded quickly.

"Good plan. I like having all of my limbs…and living," I replied, watching the dragon warily.

"Now _that_ is ataashi," Sten breathed as he looked up at the dragon – he was actually impressed by something, for once. Oghren seemed very excited by the appearance of the dragon; he had drawn his axe and was ready to charge – Alistair and Katja actually had to grab his arms and stop him.

"Would you look at her! By the holy, hairy rumps of the ancestors…that's something you don't see everyday," he breathed, a wide grin across his face. "What I wouldn't give for that beast's head on my wall. Or even a tooth to wear around my neck. What say we slay the dragon, aye?" he asked, looking back at me eagerly, and I stared at the Dwarf with round eyes.

"I'm not going up against _that_ ," I replied, looking up at the beast warily as it let out a soft growl, smoke trailing out of its nostrils.

"Bah, coward," Oghren grumbled, putting his axe away and looking at me sourly.

"Yes, yes, I'm a coward. Let's just _go_ already," I prompted, gently prodding his back to move. We crept across the bridge slowly, the dragon watching us as we crossed – she was like a great cat, looking at us and debating whether or not we were worth the trouble of getting up to chase. We crossed safely, everyone visibly more comfortable once we were out of the dragon's sight.

oooo

This temple was completely detached from the ruins on the other side of the bridge; it was utterly silent, and looked as if it hadn't been touched by mortal hands in centuries. "Do you feel that? This place is practically infused with magic," Wynne breathed, looking around in wonder at the carved statues and arching pillars. I could sense it as well; the air was nearly humming with power, and I could feel the hair standing up on the back of my neck.

"This is…not like the rest of the temple. This part is unblemished, untouched," Morrigan observed, running a hand lightly over a pillar, delicately tracing a carving with her fingertips.

"It feels so… _pure_. It's like time itself has stopped in this place," Jowan whispered, his eyes awed as they moved around the chamber, lingering on statues of men and women with shields bearing Andraste's symbol.

"I bid you welcome, pilgrims," a voice greeted us, mystical sounding as it floated around the chamber – it was like the echo of dripping water in a cavern. I glanced up, seeing a man in silverite armor with a winged helmet standing before a door. He had stern features, and a short, black beard, his eyes piercing into my very being as I approached, stopping before him.

"You are the Guardian?" I asked, and the man nodded.

"Yes, I am the Guardian of the Ashes. I have waited years for this," he replied in his echoing voice, and my eyes widened in surprise.

"For…for someone to take the Ashes?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"No one can take the Ashes. They belong here," he said firmly, and a chill went through me as his words echoed around. "It has been my duty, my life, to protect the Urn and prepare the way for the faithful who come to revere Andraste. For years beyond counting have I been here, and shall I remain until my task is done and the Imperium has crumbled into the sea."

"Will your task ever be over?" Leliana asked softly, her eyes wide as she stared at the Guardian.

"I do not know, and I do not question," he replied.

"Those men…the ones who have taken over the rest of the temple…do you know who they are?" I asked, and the Guardian let out a small sigh, seeming sad.

"When my brethren and I carried Andraste from Tevinter to this sanctuary, we vowed to forever revere Her memory, and guard Her. I have watched generations of my brethren take up the mantle of their fathers. For centuries they did this, unwavering, joyful, in their appointed task," he breathed, his voice low. "But now they have lost their way. They have forgotten Andraste, and their promise."

"And what of you, Guardian? Who are you?" I asked.

"I am all that remains of the first disciples. I swore I would protect the Urn as long as I lived, and I have lived a very long time," he replied, and my eyes widened.

"The first disciples? Did you know Andraste?" Alistair asked, his eyes widening as well at the Guardian's words.

"Did anyone really know Her, save the Maker? She would sometimes spend weeks alone in meditation, often without food or water," he recalled softly, warmth in his tired, grey eyes.

"How is it possible that you have lived for so long?" Morrigan piped up. I could see that she was suspicious, perhaps thinking of Flemeth.

"I made a vow, to Andraste and to the Maker. My life is tied to the Ashes. As long as they remain, so will I," the Guardian answered, and she made a clucking sound with her tongue, crossing her arms and glancing away.

"Would we…be able to see the Urn?" I asked, and the Guardian looked back at me with steady eyes.

"You have come to honor Andraste, and you shall, if you prove yourself worthy," he replied.

"What must I do?" I asked, and the guardian shook his head.

"It is not my place to decide your worthiness. The Gauntlet does that. If you are found worthy, you will see the Urn and be allowed to take a small pinch of the Ashes for yourself. If not…" he trailed off, and we understood his meaning.

"What is the Gauntlet?" I asked.

"The Gauntlet tells the true pilgrims from the false. You will undergo four tests of faith, and we shall see how your soul fares," he answered, and I nodded.

"Very well. I am ready," I said, glancing back at the others, who said they were prepared to go as well.

"Before you go, there is something I must ask." I glanced up at the man as he held up a hand. "I see that the path that led you here was not easy. There is suffering in your past – your suffering, and the suffering of others," the Guardian began, his eyes piercing into me. It felt as if my soul was being torn out of my body, and I shuddered at his next words. "Child of the Fade… By the time you reached Shianni, she was broken, brutalized. You were too late to save her. And your betrothed, Nelaros – he died, taking the blow that was meant for you. Tell me, pilgrim, did you fail them?"

I stared at the Guardian in stunned silence – no one else spoke, and I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. "H-How do you know of my past?" I asked, clearly disturbed by his words. I had actually felt him reaching through my mind – he knew everything that I was; my fears, my regrets. And he knew I was a demon, yet not a demon.

"Your path is laid out before me and plain to see – in the lines of your face and the scars on your heart. Do you believe you have failed them?" the Guardian asked again, and I looked at him for a long time, my shoulders slumping as all the strength drained from my body.

"…yes. I never should have let it happen in the first place," I admitted, looking down in shame. I suddenly felt very small under his piercing eyes, and I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to suppress the shivers that went through me.

"Thank you. That is all I wished to know," the Guardian nodded.

I felt Alistair come up behind me, placing his hand lightly on my back, trying to comfort me. "You are too hard on yourself. No one's perfect," he said gently, and I looked up at him sadly, straightening as I calmed down.

"Parshaara. Leave the past where it falls," Sten muttered, and I looked up at him, giving him a small, sad smile.

The Guardian moved on, looking at my companions. "Alistair, knight and Warden…" he turned his gaze on Alistair, who took a deep breath, bracing himself for the question. "You wonder if things would have been different, if you were with Duncan on the battlefield. You could have shielded him from the killing blow. You wonder, don't you, if you should have died, and not him?" the Guardian asked, and Alistair looked back at him quietly.

"I…yes. If Duncan had been saved, and not me, everything would be better. If I'd just had the chance, maybe I…" he trailed off, looking at the ground, his eyes saddening at the memory of the battle. I looked up at him, gently taking his hand in mine and trying to console him.

"No, Alistair…" I whispered. "There was no escape from that battlefield. Duncan wouldn't want you to linger on things you can't change…" I murmured, looking down as I realized how hypocritical I sounded, given my own circumstances. Alistair let out a quiet breath, seeing the look in my eyes and tightening his grip around my fingers, nodding slightly.

"Fen'Asha," the Guardian said, looking at Neria, and she narrowed her eyes at the name, "daughter of the Dread Wolf…"

"Showering me with titles before stabbing me in the heart, eh?" Neria sighed, not looking eager to answer her question.

"Tamlen was one of your tribe – a blood-brother," the Guardian said, and Neria's shoulders stiffened. "You left him in the ruins, left him to his fate. Tell me, pilgrim, did you fail Tamlen?" The question hung in the air as Neria looked at the ground, shame in her eyes.

"Yes…" she whispered. "I shouldn't have gone back to the camp without him. I should have stayed…" she shook her head slowly, and Zevran walked over silently, cupping her face in his hands and looking at her with sympathy, his thumbs rubbing away her tears tenderly as he held her.

"Ask your question, Guardian. I am ready," Wynne said, crossing her arms and looking the man straight in the eye as he turned to face her.

"You are ever the advisor, ready with a word of wisdom. Do you wonder if you spout only platitudes, burned into your mind in the distant past? Perhaps you are only a tool used to spread the word of the Circle and the Chantry. Does doubt ever chip away at your truths?" the Guardian asked, and Wynne looked at him unwaveringly.

"You frame the statement in the form of a question, yet you already know our answers," Wynne remarked. "There is no sense in hiding, is there? Yes. I do doubt at times. Only the fool is completely certain of himself," she replied, and the Guardian nodded.

He looked at Jowan next, and the mage cowered under the powerful, grey eyes, almost the same shade as his own. "Blood mage…and dressed like a Tevinter Magister," the man began, and Jowan shivered; I could sense the Guardian sending waves of energy towards him – it was like he was trying to intimidate him.

" _Don't_ do that," I growled, my eyes flashing as I stepped in front of Jowan, my hand on my weapon. "Guardian, you will _not_ harm my friends."

"…Adeline, it's alright," Jowan spoke softly behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder. The Guardian nodded slightly at my words as I returned to my place next to Alistair, and did not continue his attack.

"Apostate, and maleficar," he continued. "Your love for Lily drove you to destruction – you were blind to Selina's affections, even as she sacrificed herself to save you." Jowan flinched at his words, looking down. "Both of them have paid for your crimes. Tell me; have you failed them?"

Jowan closed his eyes, taking in a long, shaky breath. "Yes," he choked out, his eyes red as he held back tears. "Yes…" He covered his face, running his hands through his hair as he tried to calm himself, and I looked at him sadly, wishing that I had come here on my own – I hated seeing my friends suffering.

"And you…" the Guardian turned his gaze towards Leliana, "why do you say the Maker speaks to you, when all know that the Maker has left? He spoke only to Andraste. Do you believe yourself Her equal?"

Her eyes widened with astonishment at the question. "I never said that! I–"

"In Orlais, you were someone. In Lothering, you feared you would lose yourself, become a drab sister, and disappear. When your brothers and sisters of the cloister criticized you for what you professed, you were hurt, but you also reveled in it; it made you special. You enjoyed the attention, even if it was negative," the Guardian said, and Leliana shook her head in disbelief.

"You're saying I made it up, for…for the _attention?_ I did not! I know what I believe!" she argued, but the Guardian looked way, ignoring her protests and moving on to Oghren.

"Ah, the berserker. You left your home and came to the surface, knowing that–"

"Why don't I save you some time?" Oghren grunted, crossing his arms. "Yes, I wish I could have saved my family from Branka. I wish I'd been a better mate; maybe she'd have stayed home with a bellyful of baby Oghren and never gone for the Anvil. Maybe _I_ failed her. And yes, I came to the surface because I'm barely a Dwarf anymore. My family is dead, my honor as a warrior long gone. I've lost my caste and my house and I have nothing else to lose."

The Guardian had nothing to say in reply, and moved on. "And the Antivan Elf…" the Guardian began, looking at Zevran.

"Is it my turn now? Hurrah. I'm so excited," Zevran replied vapidly, not looking forward to having his soul laid bare before us.

"Many have died at your hand," the Guardian said, "but is there any you regret more than a woman by the name of…"

"How do you know about that?" Zevran cut the man off quickly, trying to remain calm.

"I know much; it is allowed to me. The questions stands, however. Do you regret…"

" _Yes_. The answer is _yes_ , if that's what you wish to know. I do. Now move on," Zevran said bitterly, suddenly angry.

"Child of stone, born of no caste," the Guardian addressed Katja, who sighed, crossing her arms as she prepared herself.

"Yeah, yeah, Leske's death was my fault – I should have turned around," she grunted. "Mam couldn't care less if I fell into a lava plume. Rica's the king's favorite concubine," she listed. "So really, the only person I care about that's still alive is fine. Maybe I failed Leske, but the dead don't complain," she finished, looking away sharply.

"Demand whatever answers you want, spirit," Sten said as the Guardian turned to look at him.

"You came to this land as an observer, but you killed a family in a blind rage. Have you failed your people, by allowing a Qunari to be seen in that light?" the Guardian asked.

"I have never denied that I failed," Sten replied unflinchingly.

"And you, Morrigan, Flemeth's daughter…what–"

" _Begone_ , spirit. I will not play your games," Morrigan cut him off, growing impatient with the entire ordeal.

"I will respect your wishes," the Guardian replied. "The way is open. Good luck, and may you find what you seek," he said, addressing the rest of us. We moved on, and I glanced at the others, angry at myself for becoming so emotional. _I thought I was done with this,_ I thought glaring at the doors before us as we entered the next room, ready for the trials ahead.

oooo

In the next room, eight spirits stood to attention, their forms shimmering blue in the faint light of the open hall, each one in an alcove by the wall, waiting for our approach. A tall door sat at the end of the hall, eight latches keeping the door barred.

The first spirit was a woman, with short, dark hair, and a face drawn with resignation and sadness, her eyes blank silver, as if she were blind. "Echoes from a shadow realm, whispers of things yet to come. Thought's strange sister dwells in night, is swept away by dawning light. Of what do I speak?" she asked.

"Riddles? We are to answer riddles?" Morrigan muttered, looking at the other seven spirits with a sour expression.

"You speak of dreams," Wynne answered, and the woman nodded.

"A dream came upon me, as my daughter slumbered beneath my heart. It told of her life, and of her betrayal and death. I am sorrow and regret. I am a mother weeping bitter tears for a daughter she could not save," the woman breathed, her form shimmering and fading away before us. A ball of light shot across the room and hit the door, and one of the latches was pushed back.

We moved on to the next spirit; a girl with brown hair tied behind her ears, and pale, green eyes posed our next riddle. "The smallest lark could carry it, while a strong man might not. Of what do I speak?" she asked.

"A tune," Leliana replied, and the girl nodded.

"Yes. I was Andraste's dearest friend in childhood, and always we would sing. She celebrated the beauty of life, and all who heard Her would be filled with joy. They say the Maker Himself was moved by Andraste's song, and then She sang no more of simple things," the girl said, her form shimmering and fading before us before turning into another ball of light. We heard a second click at the door as another of the latches moved back.

The next spirit was a thin Elf man with a shaved head, and light, leather armor, looking to be of Dalish make. "I'd neither a guest nor a trespasser be; in this place I belong, that belongs also to me. Of what do I speak?" he asked.

"Home," Alistair answered, and he nodded.

"It was my dream for the people to have a home of their own, where we would have no masters but ourselves. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and thus we followed Andraste, against the Imperium. But She was betrayed, and so were we," the Elf replied sadly, fading and unlocking another latch.

The next spirit was a woman with striking red hair, and green eyes, wearing light, fur-lined magister robes. "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, the debt of blood must be paid in full. Of what do I speak?" she asked, her voice sharper than the other spirits so far.

"Vengeance," I answered, and she nodded.

"Yes. My husband, Hessarian, would have chosen a quick death for Andraste. I made him swear that She would die publicly, with Her warleaders, that all would know the Imperium's strength. I am justice. I am vengeance. Blood can only be repaid in blood," she replied, vanishing and unlocking another latch.

The next spirit was an old man in armor, his long, white beard hanging over his chest, his helmet decorated with horns. "A poison of the soul, passion's cruel counterpart; from love she grows, till love lies slain. Of what do I speak?" he asked, his voice weary.

"Jealousy," Morrigan answered, and the spirit nodded.

"Yes, jealousy drove me to betrayal. I was the greatest general of the Alamarri, but beside Her I was nothing. Hundreds fell before Her on bended knee. They loved Her, as did the Maker. I loved Her too, but what man can compare with a god?" he breathed, fading and unlocking a latch.

The next spirit was an old man, dressed in Chantry robes, his eyes pale amber as they looked upon us. "The bones of the world stretch towards the sky's embrace. Veiled in white, like a bride greeting her groom. Of what do I speak?" he asked.

"Mountains," Sten answered, and the man nodded.

"Yes. I carried Andraste's Ashes out of Tevinter into the mountains to the east where She could gaze ever into Her Maker's sky… No more fitting a tomb than this could we find," he said, fading and opening another latch.

The next spirit was a tall man with a proud face, wearing flowing Archon robes, with a sword at his back. "She wields the broken sword, and separates true kings from tyrants. Of what do I speak?" he asked.

"Mercy," Zevran answered, and he nodded.

"Yes. I could not bear the sight of Andraste's suffering, and mercy bade me end Her life. I am the penitent sinner, who shows compassion as he hopes compassion will be shown to him," the man said, fading as another latch clicked back.

The last spirit had dark brown hair, and a thin, chinstrap beard. "No man has seen it but all men know it. Lighter than air, sharper than any sword. Comes from nothing, but will fell the strongest armies. Of what do I speak?" he asked.

"Hunger," Katja answered, and he nodded.

"Yes, hunger was the weapon used against the wicked men of the Tevinter Imperium. The Maker kindled the sun's flame, scorching the land. Their crops failed, and their armies could not march. Then He opened the heavens and bade the waters flow, and washed away their filth. I am Cathaire, disciple of Andraste and commander of Her armies. I saw these things done, and knew the Maker smiled on us," Cathaire said, vanishing as the final latch clicked into place. The door swung open to the next room, and we continued.

oooo

As soon as I stepped through the doorway, everything turned black as pitch around me, and I thought that something was covering my eyes. I put my hands up to my face, feeling nothing there, blinking in confusion. "…Alistair?" I called, reaching my hands out. There wasn't any response, and I turned around, trying to find the door – it had disappeared. "Oh…oh _sod_ …" I muttered, reaching blindly in the darkness and getting on my hands and knees, feeling around the ground.

An idea came to me, and I closed my eyes, shifting into my demon form and concentrating on my hair, hoping that it could light my path. The flaming locks made a soft glow pool around my feet, but it only extended out for about a meter before fading into darkness. "Alistair! Wynne!" I yelled, hearing no response. "Morrigan! Jowan!" I called, looking around in fear. "Zevran! Neria! Oghren!" I shouted again, beginning to run. "Katja! Sten! Leliana!"

I crashed hard into something solid, landing on my back and letting out a groan of pain, feeling blood dripping from my nose. "Ow…" I murmured, getting to my feet. There was a strange, black obelisk before me, and I reached out, touching it with a hand. I shut my eyes as blinding light spread outward from the pillar, and I blinked a few times, finding myself standing in the Alienage, just outside of my house. "…what the…? How did I…?" I stared at the place in disbelief, reaching out and touching the door, turning the handle and stepping inside.

"Ah, welcome home, da'len," a familiar voice greeted me, and I stopped in the doorway, staring at her; my mother was sitting by the hearth, preparing dinner.

"M-Mamae?" I whispered, my hands shaking. My fingers curled into fists, and I took a step back, nearly stumbling out of the house as she got to her feet.

"Why do you fear me, da'len? I will not harm you." It was her; it _had_ to be. The red hair, dark skin…soothing voice…

"But you…you died…" I whispered, and she gave me a small, sad smile.

"Indeed," she sighed. My mother walked slowly towards me, gently reaching her hands out, and I sobbed, leaping into her arms and burying my face in her shoulder. "Shh…shh…" she murmured, kissing my hair. "It will be alright, ma vhenan, but there is someone who wants to speak to you," she said softly, and I glanced up as she led me into the house.

Sitting at the table, as if he had just appeared, was Nelaros, looking just the same as the day I had left.

oOo

Alistair was standing in what looked and felt like an infinite darkness. He had called out to the others, but there had been no response at all, no matter who he called, or for how long. "Is this one of the tests?" he wondered aloud, blinking as he looked at his feet. He realized that a faint, gold light had appeared, and that the outline of his shoes was now visible. Turning around, he blinked a few times, spotting a man he had only seen portraits of; King Maric.

Alistair wasn't sure what to think. He stayed stock-still as the king – no, his _father_ – walked towards him. Larger than life, and twice as tall – it was an apt description of the grand monarch that stood before him. "…Alistair?" the voice was softer than he had expected, and warm. The darkness around the Grey Warden seemed to be chased away by Maric's presence. "My son…" Maric breathed, stopping as he came up to Alistair. His eyes were wise, but sad, and he looked at the young man before him, slowly shaking his head. "But no…I have not the right to call you such…"

"Why?" Alistair asked softly. He was staring at Maric, emotions rolling through his mind as he fought to stay calm.

Maric knew that Alistair wasn't referring to what he had just said. "I…I wanted to keep you. But no one knew about you. It is my greatest regret…" the old king sighed, looking at Alistair with softness in his tired gaze. "Your mother didn't want you caught up in the cruel world of politics. She wanted you to grow up as a normal boy…"

"But why didn't _she_ keep me? I understand that…that a royal bastard couldn't…" Alistair trailed off. "Didn't…didn't she want me?" his voice was barely above a whisper, and he could feel a prickle in his eyes, and warmth on his cheeks as he cried. He hurriedly wiped at his eyes forcing himself to calm down; waves of anguish had risen up in him, and he took long, calming breaths, trying to clear his mind.

"It was too dangerous," Maric murmured, shaking his head. "Alistair…your mother wasn't a serving girl; she was a mage," he explained softly. Alistair was taken aback – he stared at Maric in disbelief, but the king simply sighed, looking at his son sadly. "She was a mage…and an Elf."

oooo

Jowan was standing in the dark – even casting a small flame spell only spread a pool of light about a meter around him. "You've gotten better at controlling that, I see," a voice spoke from behind him, and Jowan whirled around, spotting her; the familiar, shoulder-length gold hair and flashing blue eyes of Selina Amell.

"Selina?" he asked, and she grinned, flinging her arms around him and mussing his hair affectionately, like she used to when they were children.

"Who else?" she replied teasingly. She looked him over, giving him a hearty pat on the back as she smiled warmly at him. "You've grown up more in the last few months than in all the years I've known you," she remarked, her voice proud.

"I…but Selina, how can you forgive what I–"

"We do stupid things for the ones we love," she winked, twining her fingers behind her. "You're my big brother, though, even if only by a few months – I didn't know that the love I felt was familial until I…met someone," Selina added, and Jowan stared at her in disbelief.

"Wait…so you're real? You're alive!?" he gasped, and she shrugged.

"I…am a reflection of Selina, within your heart," she explained, tapping the center of his chest lightly. "But while I would have appeared, should the real me be alive or dead…well, real me is alive," she chuckled at the look of relief on Jowan's face. His expression suddenly changed from relief to horror, and she held up a hand. "Ah! I mean I escaped as well! I wasn't made Tranquil," she clarified, and Jowan let out a shaky laugh, putting his hand over his heart.

"Maker's breath, even when you're not really here, you can give me a heart attack," he chuckled, and Selina smirked.

"What can I say – it's a talent," she replied with a crooked grin. "Now, there's someone who needs to see you as well. She'd…like to apologize," she added, grabbing Jowan's hand and running through the darkness. The world around him flashed and twisted with lights and colors, and Jowan had to cover his eyes as warm candlelight lit a stone room, and he found himself standing in the familiar chapel, back in the Circle tower.

Kneeling by the altar was a familiar, red-haired woman, and she glanced up as she heard Jowan take in a shaky breath. Her eyes were apologetic as she gave him a sad smile. "Hello Jowan," Lily murmured as she got to her feet, walking over to him and folding her hands together by her waist.

oooo

Neria held a hand in front of her face, waving it about – she couldn't tell if her eyes were opened or shut, and she couldn't smell or hear anything. She made a face, letting out a loud groan and beginning to walk – standing around would get her nowhere. After shouting everyone's names for what felt like hours, she sighed, knitting her fingers together behind her head and whistling an old Dalish tune as she walked, kicking out her feet a bit as she moved so that she wouldn't suddenly crash into something.

She stopped as she heard her tune echoed, and she went quiet, listening as it continued on without her. "Is someone there?" she called out, and a warm chuckle greeted her, closer than the whistling had been. Neria let out a gasp as she was swept off her feet, and she whirled around as she was set back down, staring up at the familiar, yet unfamiliar face.

"My little Neria," her father smiled, planting a kiss on his daughter's forehead. She knew he was her father, but didn't know how she recognized him – he had died the night she was born.

"Papa?" she gasped, staring at the old Keeper. He placed a hand gently on her cheek, smiling warmly at her.

"I am so proud of you, da'len. You've grown up… You look just like your mother," he sighed, his thumb stroking her cheek. "I wish I had lived long enough to see you grow up."

"Papa, what is this? How are you here?" Neria asked, looking around in panic. "This isn't the Beyond, is it?" she asked, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

"No, ma vhenan. I am a reflection of myself, an image of the love you remember in the womb, here, in your heart," the Elf man explained, tapping his daughter's collarbone with the tip of a finger. "Look around – do you remember where we are?" he added, and Neria shut her eyes tightly, squinting in the sudden light; they were in a clearing in the woods, and she gasped – this was where she and Tamlen had confronted the shemlen who had told them of the ruins.

The bushes rustled with approaching footsteps, and Tamlen appeared, his golden hair shining in the sunlight that streamed through the trees. He grinned at Neria, hopping down from a rise in the ground and trotting over, flinging his arms around her and sweeping her into the air. "Neria, emma lath," he breathed, pressing his forehead against hers.

"T-Tamlen…" Neria gasped, clinging to him as he planted kisses across her cheeks and forehead. "Tamlen, I'm so sorry. I should never have–"

"Shh…" he silenced her with a gentle finger to her lips. "All is well, my love. I…am no longer among the living," he sighed, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. "I want you to live, and move on – you are strong, and regret for what you did only eats away at you, causing you needless pain," he whispered, gently letting her go.

"Tamlen…" Neria murmured, holding his hand. "Tamlen…I'll never forget you. When we get back to the Brecilian, I will plant a tree in your honor," she vowed, bowing her head.

The Elf grinned, kissing the back of her hand. "Remember these words, and draw strength from them," he said. "Solas, sulahn, suledin."

oOo

"Oh…oh Maker…N-Nelaros?" I asked in a shaky voice, my eyes wide.

"Good to see you too, Adeline," he said gently, standing from where he sat at the dining table. He smiled, walking over to me as I remained still, shocked.

"No…this…this isn't…possible…" I breathed, and he sighed, nodding.

"Yes. I'm…I'm dead. This is a vision; I am part of you. Hush…" Nelaros murmured softly, seeing tears running down my cheeks.

"But…but I couldn't save you…" I whispered, and he shook his head.

"That wasn't your fault," Nelaros said, strength in his words. "Vaughan's actions are his own, as yours are your own. What you did, you did to protect your family. I…didn't want you to linger on this, but I see that you have," he sighed. Nelaros reached out, and his hand seemed to pass through me. He pulled back, and I saw that he was holding the wedding band he had made for me.

"You don't need to linger on this any longer. I know that you are in good hands," he smiled gently, tucking the ring into his pocket. He pulled a different ring from his other pocket, handing it to me and placing his fingers over mine, giving them an encouraging squeeze. "Here. Take this, and know that you are loved." Nelaros smiled once more and faded away.

I looked down at the ring – it was pitch-black, made of obsidian, with an inscription of gold on the inside that said 'stay strong'. I glanced up and started – everything had faded away, except for a mirror; I was staring at myself, able to see despite the darkness. _But…no, that's not a mirror,_ I thought – I was looking at my Elf form, when I was still in the shape of a demon. The other me looked older, and more relaxed – she smiled with an easy confidence that I was almost envious of.

"Don't be jealous – you'll figure it out eventually," she chuckled, reaching out and pinching my cheek. "You've got a long road ahead of you, and I'm going to make sure you're strong enough to face what's yet to come," she added, and I opened my mouth, about to speak, when she whipped out her blades, lunging at me and grinning like a cat.

"What are you doing!?" I shouted with surprise, slipping my ring onto my finger as I leapt back, just barely getting out of the way of my blade.

"Be careful. Claíomh Solais burns undead, and creatures of the Fade," she warned, indicating the saber as it sparked, coating itself in blue-grey flame.

"You…know its name?" I asked with surprise, dodging again.

"You'll learn it, too, eventually," she smirked as I scowled at her cryptic speech. "Now come on kitten – earn your claws."

oOo

Alistair was following Duncan now, his eyes red with the silent tears that rolled down his cheeks. The older Grey Warden had come to him, after he had spoken to Maric, and had talked to the young man for a long time. Alistair had talked as well, spilling out his fears and worries, and the Warden-Commander had listened to every word. "We are almost there – she has just finished," Duncan said, his voice soft as he led Alistair through the darkness.

Alistair massaged his shield-arm; it was still sore from his fight with himself earlier – he had faced a younger, less confident version of himself. Duncan hadn't said a word about it, but Alistair sensed that the man – despite being a reflection of a memory – knew more than he let on; Duncan was just that kind of person.

Adeline was lying on the ground, the darkness held at bay by her flaming hair, and the demon sat up, gasping for breath as she tried to get to her feet. She sighed and shifted back into her Elf form, glancing over as she spotted Alistair and Duncan approaching. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw Duncan, taking a shaky step towards the two.

"You're…another illusion?" she asked softly, and Duncan smiled gently, taking her hand as she held it out to touch his arm.

"Yes, dear girl," he replied. "I wish that you and Alistair did not need to shoulder this burden on your own…but know that I am proud of both of you. You have grown so much in such a short time – I am honored to have known you," the Warden-Commander said, and Adeline blushed with pride, her eyes misting over as she looked at Duncan. She suddenly flung herself into the man's arms, and he patted her back gently, smiling softly at her affection.

"We will honor your memory, Duncan. Yours, and that of all the Grey Wardens who fell at Ostagar," Alistair vowed, shaking Duncan's hand. The older man smiled warmly at his two recruits, patting their arms as his form began to fade.

"Truly…my only regret is that I was unable to watch you grow – you have become fine Grey Wardens," he smiled sadly, and the two watched him fade away. Alistair looked at Adeline, reaching out a hand and placing it on her arm. She jumped, staring up at him with round eyes.

"Alistair! I thought you were an illusion," she stammered, and he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"No, I'm really here," he assured her. "Now…how do we get out of here?" he added, and Adeline looked around as the darkness seemed to melt away.

"I don't think we have to worry about that," she replied, and she closed her eyes, blinking them open as they adjusted to the light; everyone was standing in a long corridor together, their expressions ranging from shock, to relief, to acceptance. Adeline noticed that each person had a small, black token on them, whether it was a new ring, a bracelet, or an amulet – they all had the same, shiny obsidian charm. The only one who seemed emotionally unaffected was Morrigan, but even _she_ was wearing a new amulet around her neck.

oOo

The next room that we came to was a large, round chamber with a deep chasm in the center. "That is a _long_ way down," Zevran remarked, peeking over the edge, unable to see the bottom. "I wonder how we will get across?" he added, and Oghren let out a chuckle.

"So is anyone going to suggest tossing the Dwarf across? No? Pity," he rumbled, and Katja smirked.

"I wouldn't mind, so long as _you're_ the one being tossed," she replied, and I crossed my arms, tapping my chin lightly and looking around the room.

"Hey, you see those…thingies over on the side of that huge chasm? I bet they're used for something," Alistair said, and I raised an eyebrow, looking towards what he was pointing at. The chasm was outlined by what looked like giant pressure-plates, and I wondered what they were for. "Maybe I should touch them. Or stand on them?" he suggested, walking over towards one.

"Alistair, normal people tend to avoid strange-looking sections of floor – 'thingies' as you say. They tend to be traps," Leliana replied, and Alistair paused mid-stride, glancing back at her.

"You…er…don't really think they're traps, do you?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"Well they're just…out in the open. Not very good traps if you ask me," I replied. "I wonder if they're pressure-plates or something," I murmured "…although that still doesn't get us across. Do you think they're involved in some sort of puzzle?"

"…perhaps," Morrigan replied, walking over carefully and lightly stepping on one. As she did, a strange glow appeared near the middle of the pit, and the transparent outline of a segment of bridge appeared.

"Ooh, look at that. I don't think it's solid enough to stand on, but it's a start," Alistair said, noticing the segment.

"It is clearly incorporeal; there's no way to cross on that," Morrigan observed.

"I said it's a _start_ , not a sure way across," Alistair replied.

The chamber suddenly rumbled, and a voice echoed throughout the place, startling us. " _Andraste loved Her disciples as She loved the Maker. As we have faith in the Maker, so must we have faith in our friends_."

"Oh, creepy head-voices. _That's_ what this place needed more of," Neria muttered, glancing around the room nervously.

"Tell me what you would have me do here, kadan, and it will be done," Sten said simply, and I nodded, looking around at the strange tiles.

"Hmm…what if we stand on more than one of those tile thingies at a time? Maybe if we make a certain combination, the bridge will turn solid?" I murmured, more to myself than the others. We experimented for a while, stepping on the tiles in different orders until one of the bridge pieces became solid.

"Ah, so there's the trick. Each piece must be made solid in order for one of us to cross," Morrigan said, once two bridge segments had solidified.

"These are like stepping stones, aren't they? We have to take them one at a time to get across," Leliana realized.

"Looks like it to me. Say, anyone have something to write on?" I asked, and Leliana handed me a charcoal stick and a bit of paper. "Just to be safe, I'm writing down which combinations make what segment appear," I explained, taking note of where each of them were standing.

I had them arrange themselves in different patterns, taking careful note of which bridge piece appeared according to their positions. "Mmm…okay. I've got it," I said finally. They moved into position as I directed them, and the first two segments of the bridge appeared. "Please follow my directions exactly. I don't want to end up a bloody smear at the bottom of a chasm," I asked, stepping out onto the bridge.

They followed my directions, and the first segment faded away behind me, the third appearing before me. I tested it gingerly, tapping it lightly with my foot to make sure it was solid, reading out the next orders once I was safely on the next segment.

I let out a soft breath of relief once I had reached the other side, calling out to the others that I was safe. "I'll look for a switch or something on this side!" I said, searching around the walls. I patted them lightly, looking for a hidden switch, or maybe something that would make the bridge solid so that the others could cross. "Uh…bad news," I called back, looking out towards the others. "Either there's a switch that's hidden _very_ well, or there's no switch at all," I explained. Just as I spoke, though, a loud rumble went through the cavern, and the bridge solidified. "Oh. That's convenient," I remarked as the others joined me. "Shall we?" I asked, and we headed to the next room.

oooo

In the room ahead, I could see a tall staircase with a glowing golden urn, but the way was blocked by a wall of flames. An ancient pedestal stood before me, and I looked down, reading the inscription.

 _[Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit. King and slave, lord and beggar; be born anew in the Maker's sight.]_

"Uh…" I said, staring at the inscription.

"What, what's wrong?" Alistair asked, walking over. "Oh. Well. That's…yes…" he trailed off. The others came over, wondering what we were talking about.

"Maker's breath, this is going to get _so_ awkward…" Jowan murmured, his face reddening at the thought.

I sighed, covering my face and walking away from the pillar. "Well…" I said, crossing my arms and looking towards the Urn, "maybe only one person has to…uh…have their soul bared to the flames, so to speak."

"I know it's…symbolic and all, but _really?_ " Neria snorted, shaking her head, although she looked more amused than anything.

"So long as it isn't Oghren going," Zevran muttered, and Katja let out a loud laugh.

"Oh, Stone, I think we'd all turn blind," she chuckled.

"I don't know, nugget – you might like what you see," Oghren said, and Katja's face turned green as she retreated to the other side of the room, looking ill.

"Well, everyone turn around," I prompted, and Alistair made a face.

"What, you're really going to do this?" he asked, and I rolled my eyes.

"I don't see any _other_ way to get to the Ashes. And besides, even if someone looks – which I will slit your throats if you do," I raised my voice, looking pointedly at Zevran and Oghren, "all they'll see is a silhouette against the fire."

"I was thinking more along the lines of…oh…say," he leaned in, "the fact that you're a _demon?_ I'm not saying that you can't be Andrastian, but what if those flames are meant to harm demons?" he asked softly, keeping his voice down so the others couldn't hear.

"Oh, so you volunteer instead?" I asked with a smirk, and he shrugged.

"To keep you safe, yes," he replied, and I smiled more gently at him.

"That's very sweet of you," I murmured, glancing back at the others. "Alistair says he's going to try," I informed them. I helped Alistair unbuckle some of his armor, turning around once he said he could do the rest. It wasn't as if we hadn't seen each other bare, but it was more out of politeness than anything. I heard Alistair call out once he was up to the flames.

"Alright! If you don't hear screaming it means I _haven't_ been incinerated!" he called cheerily, stepping into the flames. For a few tense seconds there was only silence, and then I heard a loud _fwoosh_ , and the room cooled off.

"You have been through the trials of the Gauntlet; you have walked the path of Andraste, and like Her, you have been cleansed. You have proven yourself worthy, pilgrim," I could hear the Guardian's voice behind me, but I refrained from turning my head. I heard Alistair walking back towards us, and I turned around once he said he had his pants on at least.

"So uh…fire's gone?" I asked him, watching as he pulled on his mail shirt over his clothes, buckling his splint-mail cuirass into place, and he nodded.

"Seems so," he replied. Once Alistair was finished putting his armor back on, we walked towards the base of the stairs.

"Shall we?" I asked, glancing up at the glowing, gold urn that sat at the top of the steps.

"I never dreamed I would ever lay my eyes on the Urn of Sacred Ashes… I…I have no words to express…" Leliana murmured, her voice awed in the presence of the Ashes, her eyes shining.

"I didn't think anyone could succeed in finding Andraste's final resting place…but here…here She is," Alistair breathed, staring at the Urn.

"Maker forgive my trespasses, Andraste, forgive my intrusion," I murmured softly, gingerly lifting the lid off the Urn and taking a tiny pinch of the Ashes, my hands shaking as I placed the remains of the Beloved in a small leather pouch. I closed the lid of the Urn, giving a low, respectful bow. That I hadn't been obliterated in the presence of the Ashes was a good sign, to say the least.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Note:

Kudos to those who know what Claíomh Solais is, and understand the irony. I think it's pronounced 'klee-uhv suleesh' or 'kleeve solish' – I've seen it written phonetically both ways.


	41. Chapter 41: Reckless

Chapter 41

Reckless

Author's note:

As always, thank you for the reviews, favorites and follows! :)

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

As we headed back out of the temple, past the Guardian, I froze, nearly toppling over as the others bumped into me. The high dragon had disappeared from her perch, and across the bridge, moving towards us in the darkness, were more than a score of torches, the firelight glinting off of shining, silverite armor and weapons.

"Oh _sod_ ," I breathed, drawing my blades. The cultists came to a halt mid-way across the mountainside, not moving any further, and I looked at my companions with uncertainty.

"There's no other way out, unless we try to climb down the mountain," Jowan observed, and Neria peered down at the dizzying height, making a face.

"I'll take my chances with the cultists," she muttered, stringing her bow and nocking an arrow, watching the cultists warily as we approached.

"Careful; I doubt they're coming with a peace offering," Katja murmured, unhooking a lightning grenade from her belt, ready to throw it among the armored men.

We met them halfway across the bridge, and the lead man, dressed in an odd mix of robes and armor, stepped forth, holding his hands out. "You have defiled our sacred temple! You shall pay for your heinous crimes in blood, heathens!" he shouted, and I tried not to make a face.

"I thought we handled Kolgrim and his lot earlier?" I murmured to the others, keeping an eye on the man. He pulled something from his voluminous sleeves, and I swore as I saw the ivory horn in his hand. " _Shoot him!_ " I roared, and Neria took aim, firing a second too late – the beginnings of the echoing bellow of the horn sounded across the mountains, blasting _louder_ as the man choked out his breath, an arrow in his throat.

"What did he just–" Leliana's question was cut off by a loud roar, and I groaned as the cultists let out a resounding cheer.

"I hope the dragon isn't hungry," I muttered, gritting my teeth and bracing myself as a blast of air nearly bowled me off my feet, a dark form shooting by overhead. There was another bellowing roar that echoed off the mountainside, and the dragon landed heavily behind the cultists, rearing her head back and spewing flames into the air.

The cultists' cheers of joy turned to screams of horror as the high dragon turned on them, breathing fire and cooking them alive in their armor, snapping a few up in her jaws and jerking her neck back, like a heron swallowing fish. I let out a yelp and tried to shove the others back from the flames as she turned her attention on us, feeling the wave of hot air blow towards us before the fire as we toppled over. Wynne held up her staff just in time, a glowing blue shield covering us and splitting the flames, making them dissipate harmlessly around us.

"Alright, I take it back," Oghren grunted as I helped him to his feet, "you're not a coward."

"Thanks, I guess," I replied through gritted teeth, grabbing an ice grenade and hurling it with all my might at the dragon as she opened her mouth again. The grenade burst as it hit the high dragon's jaw, freezing across her mouth, and she shrieked, blowing fire and melting the ice that had crusted over her skin.

"Sod, all that did was make her mad," Neria hissed, staring at the dragon as she snarled, looking right at us.

" _SCATTER!_ " I yelled, and we all leapt from the spot as the dragon charged, the mountainside shaking as she came after us. "Over here you great sodding lizard!" I shouted, trying to keep her focus off the archers and mages. I threw another grenade, more as a distraction than anything, and the dragon hissed, turning her head towards me and blowing fire.

" _Are you_ _ **insane!?**_ " Leliana cried, firing off ice arrows at the dragon, and I laughed as I leapt out of the way of the flames, the fire scorching the rocks where I had been standing a moment ago.

" _Yes!_ " I grinned, looking around at the ruins scattered across the flatter sections of the mountainside. There were plenty of places to duck and hide from the flames, and I spotted a ruin up near a ledge overhead, perched precariously close to the edge. An idea began to form, and a wicked grin spread across my face.

I leapt behind a pillar while the dragon's back was turned, spotting Jowan hiding nearby, casting haste and shielding spells on our companions. "The dragon's resistant to most elemental attacks – my primal school spells aren't strong enough to do any damage," he said hurriedly as I ran over, ducking behind a collapsed wall next to him.

"I have a plan," I said, peeking over the wall top. "We need to cripple her wings first, so she can't fly out of the way," I added, and Jowan looked at the dragon.

"I…remember reading in a bestiary book that the membrane of a dragon's wing is resistant to fire, but can be shattered if it's frozen – it's how the dragon hunters of old used to fight them," he recalled, swearing under his breath as he recast a shield spell on Oghren, who had almost gotten stepped on by the dragon.

"Alright, leave that to me – just sit tight, and keep the shields up," I said, patting his shoulder before dashing out from behind the ruins, using collapsed pillars and broken chunks of buildings for cover. I managed to sneak close enough to the dragon to get to her right flank, hurling a pair of ice grenades at the wing and cupping my hands around my mouth as the membrane froze solid. " _Shatter the wing!_ " I bellowed, and Sten and Oghren heard me, flanking the dragon as Morrigan distracted the beast with more ice magic on her left side.

The dragon let out a horrible scream as her wing was shattered, twisting wildly and snapping as her wing-stump poured boiling, dark blood across the ground. She swung her tail around, knocking Sten and Oghren off their feet, and lashing it in a wide circle as she battered the others with her remaining wing. _Shit, she's going to crush them_ , I thought in panic, running out into the open and hurling a fire grenade at the dragon's face. She snarled at me, curling her lip back threateningly, but didn't turn, going after her stunned prey first.

 _Shit shit distraction distraction…!_ I snapped my fingers as I thought of something; the dragon reminded me of a giant cat – what better to distract a cat than something shiny? I stuck my fingers into my mouth, letting out a shrieking whistle, and the dragon turned to look at me, her eyes reflecting my flaming hair.

"Come on! I'm over here!" I shouted, letting the blaze in my hair expand and grow brighter as I ran. The dragon seemed captivated by the dancing flames, leaping at me and batting with a paw like a gigantic, deadly feline, her attention drawn away from my companions for the time being. I leapt over her extended claws, rolling and ducking as I led her towards the side of the mountain where the hanging ruins were – it was as if the dragon couldn't see anything but my glowing hair. I let out waves of Charm as I distracted her, and I caught glimpses of my companions staggering to their feet behind me, staring and not really comprehending what was going on.

" _Morrigan, Jowan, blast the ruins!_ " I shouted as I neared the sheer cliff face. I ducked as the dragon leapt, crashing headlong into the wall and catching me between her paws, her maw opened wide to swallow me whole. Before the mages could cast their spells, I felt a rumble, and dark shapes fell from above, crashing down on our heads and burying the dragon alive.

oOo

" _NO!_ " Alistair yelled, watching as what looked like half the cliff face collapsed onto the high dragon, burying it and Adeline beneath tons of stone and dirt. The Templar staggered forward, gasping in pain as his leg gave out from under him – the dragon had whipped at him with her tail, and he had landed awkwardly on his ankle, spraining it. Everyone looked in bad shape, covered in cuts and bruises, and a few burns where Wynne and Jowan's shields had failed.

"W-what _was_ that?" Leliana gasped, staring at the pile of stones in disbelief. Alistair swore under his breath, forcing himself to his feet and limping as quickly as he could towards the collapsed cliff. Adeline had half-transformed herself – making her hair turn into fire to distract the dragon – and everyone had seen it.

"Adeline!" Neria cried out, running to Alistair's side as she saw him struggle, supporting him as they came to the pile. The others came after them, looking at the tail of the high dragon – the only thing visible from under the stones.

"She…what…? That was _Adeline!?_ " Katja stared at the cliff, putting a hand over her forehead in bewilderment.

"We need to dig her out," Alistair said, limping to where the dragon's head lay buried, looking for loose stones.

"Alistair, the mountain…collapsed on her…" Wynne murmured, looking at him sadly. The others watched as his shoulders tensed, and he shut his eyes tightly.

"No…" he whispered. "No! She _can't_ be dead!" he yelled, digging furiously at the pile, tearing at loose stones and falling back as more collapsed, Sten having to drag him away before he was buried under the unstable dirt. "Adeline…" he whispered, staring at the pile before shutting his eyes. The others looked on in silence, their eyes downcast.

"Wait…do you hear that?" Zevran murmured, shutting his eyes and cupping his ears. Neria closed her eyes as well, nodding.

"That's…muffled shouting!" she gasped, and Alistair's head whipped around, staring at the stones with fire in his eyes.

"Adeline!" he yelled, cringing as he got to his feet. Wynne hurried over and forced him to sit as the others climbed over the pile, searching for the source of the sound. "Wynne, let me look too!" he argued, but the old woman ignored him, giving him a stern look as she treated his leg.

"Once you're healed. Thank the Maker that the worst injury among all of us is a rolled ankle, after facing a _high_ _dragon_ , of all things," Wynne sighed, placing a hand over her heart in relief. "We must truly be the luckiest people alive." She helped Alistair unbuckle his greave, slapping away his hands as he fumbled with the buckles in his rush to help dig out Adeline. "Just stay still, and it'll get done faster," she scolded, and Alistair made a face, fidgeting as he watched the pile anxiously.

Katja and Leliana had begun digging where they had heard the loudest shouting, and the others helped, rolling off stones and pushing aside dirt and bits of ruins. The shouting became louder, and a faint red glow could be seen under the debris. "Stand back – she is more angry than frightened," Morrigan warned, stepping back, and the others followed suit.

Flames erupted from the earth, followed by blasts of ice, and a desire demon crawled out of the hole, screaming her head off. " _FUCK DRAGONS! I HATE FUCKING DRAGONS!_ " she shrieked, the flames around her head blazing about in waves as blood poured out of her side from three gigantic scratches. The blood sizzled as it hit the ground and evaporated, and the wounds began to knit themselves back together as she continued to rage. Everyone ducked for cover, staring with wide eyes as the demon's barbed tail lashed about, spikes protruding from the tip, like a scorpion's stinger. " _IF I LIVE TO BE A THOUSAND AND I SEE ANOTHER DRAGON, IT WILL BE TOO SOON!_ " she continued her furious tirade, green eyes blazing, claws outstretched as she snarled.

She stood there, panting for breath in the dead silence that followed, and she let out a long sigh, running her hands through her hair as the fire settled down, looking around at the shocked faces of her companions. "I…" she began, trailing off. "I really don't know what to say," she sighed, more to herself than to them. "Maker's breath… This wasn't supposed to…" she groaned, running a clawed hand over her face.

"…Adeline?" Neria asked, looking up at her, and Adeline met her eyes, a small, guilty smile on her face as she nodded, her tail wrapping anxiously around her legs. She opened her mouth to speak, gasping as she was swept off her feet and whirled around, collapsing in a heap as Alistair clutched her to his heart. He buried his face in her hair, unafraid of the blazing waves as they spread gentle warmth across him, pressing frantic kisses across her cheeks and forehead when he saw that she was safe.

"Thank the Maker you're safe," he gasped as he held her, and Adeline stared up at him with wide eyes. She grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck as Alistair kissed her, and the others relaxed, knowing that it was her for certain as her form shimmered, and she changed back into and Elf. "You, are the most reckless, _insane_ woman I have ever met," Alistair said between kisses, holding onto her as if he was afraid she would disappear.

"I'm sorry for worrying you," she murmured as they sat up, and the others gathered around them. Wynne hurried over, looking at her injuries – Adeline was battered and bruised, but nothing was broken. "The dragon's body protected me from the rockslide, and I…uh…heal really fast in…in _that_ form," she explained awkwardly. She looked around at everyone, surprised at their expressions – she had expected fear, or anger, or to be outright attacked by them; instead, there was a mix of surprise, amusement, interest, and puzzlement. "I…uh…didn't expect you to all take this very well," she admitted softly, and Wynne glanced up at her as she treated the Elf's wounds.

"You will have to explain to us exactly what we saw," she said in a no-nonsense tone, and Adeline let out a long sigh.

"Yes, I suppose I owe you that," she groaned, leaning against Alistair and not looking forward to explaining it at all.

oOo

After a very thorough explanation about what everyone had just witnessed, punctuated by an endless stream of questions – most of which I couldn't answer – we headed back to the main temple, finding a shortcut through some ruins that led to a secret entranceway. We continued on until we found Brother Genitivi and Olan back in the great hall, sitting by the large bonfire that was mysteriously still alight. The brother was going over notes, talking to Olan, who listened eagerly. The mabari glanced up at our approach and barked happily, his stubby tail wagging as he trotted over to me.

"Welcome back! You were gone for quite some time," Brother Genitivi greeted, putting away his research notes and dusting himself off. "Well? Did you find it?" the old man grinned excitedly, limping over as he leaned on his makeshift cane.

"How is your leg, brother?" I asked, and he looked down at his foot, shrugging.

"Better, much better. It seems I shall have the limp for the rest of my days, but at least I have my life. So?" he prompted.

"Yes," I breathed, and the old man grinned like a child, gripping my hand tightly.

"What…what was it like? Coming to the Urn, I mean?" he gasped.

"It was…to describe the feeling would not do it justice," I replied, and a look of longing crossed Brother Genitivi's face.

"You are a very fortunate person. And so am I. Perhaps my research will not seem so much like blasphemy to the Chantry now," he added, glancing back up towards the temple doors. "We must organize an expedition. There is so much history here. It must be studied. And…and pilgrims should be allowed to come to the Urn," he was bubbling with joy, and I bit my lip, glancing back at the others with uncertainty.

"Brother Genitivi…I understand your excitement, but it may not be wise. Many will try to exploit this discovery," I said, trying to temper his eagerness.

"But the Urn belongs to all the faithful. How can you deny this to them? No…we _must_ share it," he replied firmly.

"You have noble intentions, Brother Genitivi, but can you say the same of your brethren in the Chantry?" Wynne asked, but the man wouldn't hear of it.

"Please, Brother Genitivi…" I tried weakly, frowning as he ignored me, jotting down notes and chattering on about his plans. "Oh sod it all," I muttered, shaking my head. " _Hey!_ " I yelled, startling him. " _Listen_ to me. I _know_ your intentions are good, but maybe we should be more careful about this, yes? And besides, even _if_ pilgrims came, it will still be very dangerous for them – there are trials designed to protect the Ashes. Would you send people into danger knowing this?" I asked gently, and Brother Genitivi was quiet, thinking on my words.

"I suppose…I can be more careful about this. I shall think this through very thoroughly," he assured me, and I sighed.

"Alright. So long as you understand the weight of this, and the consequences of your actions," I replied, and he nodded.

We spent the night in the temple; we didn't want to go back to Haven yet, in case there were still cultists or more dragonlings lurking about, waiting for us to let our guard down. I took first watch with Sten, and we stood on opposite sides of the camp, keeping an eye out for any lingering cultists, or dragons from up on the mountain. Wynne sat by the fire, and as I thought of the Ashes, and thought of her situation, I began to wonder something.

"Um…Wynne," I began awkwardly, and she glanced up from where she was reading her new book, "is there something we can do to…uh… _cure_ you?"

"Cure me? What? Am I sick now?" she asked with some amusement, and I shrugged.

"You're…a little dead," I remarked, and she smiled gently at my concern.

"Even you know that you cannot cure the dead. And I'm not the only one dying. You are too. I'm just more efficient about it," Wynne joked, sighing softly at my look of chagrin. "Ah, child…your concern is heartwarming, but death comes to everyone, and it is not something to fear."

"I don't fear death, _per se_ ," I began, knitting my fingers together and looking at the fire, "it's the dying that scares me."

"People fear, not death, but having life taken from them," Wynne agreed. "Many waste the life given to them, occupying themselves with things that do not matter. When the end comes, they say they did not have time enough to spend with loved ones, to fulfill dreams, to go on adventures they only talked about…" she sighed softly, placing her hands lightly on the tome that rested in her lap. "But why should you fear death if you are happy with the life you have led, if you can look back on everything and say: Yes, I am content. It is enough."

"Are you content?" I asked, and Wynne smiled slightly.

"I think I've led a good life, a full life, and I, for one, am not afraid of death, whatever it may bring. They say that when you die, your spirit travels through the Fade and returns to the Maker. And after that…we'll see, won't we?" she asked, and I nodded. I twirled my thumbs, looking into the fire and letting out a small sigh. "Is something the matter?" Wynne asked, and I pursed my lips, giving her a sidelong glance.

"Earlier, when you saw me come out of the rubble…why didn't you all…" I trailed off, refusing to meet her eyes as I gave a weak shrug.

"You are wondering why we did not immediately attack a demon?" Wynne tried, and I nodded slightly. "I…cannot speak for the others, but Morrigan and I recognized you; we already knew," she explained, and I stared into the fire, turning my head slowly as I faced her.

"You…wait. _How?_ And how _long?_ " I asked in bewilderment. I glanced up as Morrigan walked over, sitting down beside me, her eyes reflective in the fire's light.

"When we were in Denerim, we…entered your dreams. Or your memories, rather – we stumbled upon them quite by accident," Morrigan explained, and I made a face.

"Wait, then why didn't you _tell_ me? At that time, I had no _idea_ I was…" I trailed off as Wynne held up a hand in peace.

"We were not certain of what we saw. We did not want to worry you over information of which we lacked detail," she explained, and I sighed, crossing my arms.

"Well, since you've seen my memories, you know that I mean you no harm," I said, looking between the two women. "I…hope you won't look at me any differently," I added softly, and Wynne smiled gently at me, patting my shoulder.

"Of course not. You are still Adeline, no matter what you look like," the old woman assured me, and I smiled, warmth going through me at the sincerity of her words.

"I am rather curious; how did _you_ learn of this?" Morrigan asked, and I shrugged.

"When Alistair and I went to…run that errand near Ostagar…" I began, glancing slightly at Wynne and trying to pick my words carefully.

"I know about Flemeth," the old woman snorted, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Alright then," I replied. "Flemeth forced me to transform. After we fought, I figured out how to change back," I explained, not wanting to get into too much detail about the circumstances – one unpleasant surprise was enough for today, and I didn't want Morrigan to know that her mother was still out there.

"So by his reaction, I assume that Alistair was aware of this before today," Wynne remarked, and I nodded.

"I am surprised he did not strike you down the moment he learned of your true nature," Morrigan said offhandedly, and I scowled.

"Oh gee, _thanks_ Morrigan," I muttered sourly.

"'Twas a simple observation of standard Templar procedure," the dark-haired woman replied airily, and I rolled my eyes.

" _Anyhow_ , I'd like to…thank you, for…understanding, and not panicking or attacking," I said, smiling slightly.

I bade the two goodnight as Zevran switched watches with me, curling up next to Alistair and shivering – it was always so cold in the south of Ferelden, and I couldn't get used to it, no matter how long I spent here. "Mmm, come here, you're shivering," Alistair murmured sleepily, and I curled into his arms, burying my face in his shoulder as he wrapped himself around me.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" I asked softly, and he smiled slightly, looking at me with half-opened eyes. He nuzzled my hair, his warm breath washing over my face, and I smiled, shutting my eyes.

"I don't mind – I'd rather wake up and find you here than sleep alone," he teased, and I chuckled softly, kissing his chin. "Goodnight," he whispered.

"Goodnight."

oooo

We made our way back east, towards Redcliffe – we stopped in a small village at the eastern edge of the Frostbacks a few days into the trip, parting ways with Brother Genitivi; he needed more time to recover before making the trip back to Denerim.

I found Oghren one night in camp, looking a bit glum; I thought that maybe what the Guardian had said to him was bothering him. He glanced up at my approach, and I sat down next to the Dwarf as he took a draught from his flask, letting out a sigh and looking into the fire. "Pull up a drink, Warden. Join me in my sodding hole," he muttered, and I folded my hands lightly on my lap, sensing that he needed someone to listen to him.

"What's wrong, Oghren?" I asked softly, and the Dwarf closed his eyes for a few moments, nodding slightly and letting out a long breath.

"I don't know. I just…I guess we're pretty good friends now, right?" he asked, looking at me, and I gave a small, encouraging smile. "I just…I keep thinking about all that slag with Branka, how I've turned out. I always said I was this way because she left, but I think maybe…" he trailed off, shaking his head slowly, "…maybe she left because of how I am."

"I think she underestimated you," I argued, and Oghren snorted softly, looking back at the fire.

"No, she just…estimated me," he replied. "She knew how I was, and because of that, she left without me," he sighed. "Worked out in my favor, though. I'm here fighting the good fight and not fed to Caridin's traps or her pet darkspawn," he added with a small shrug.

"I'm…glad you're here, Oghren. You've changed since then," I said, and the Dwarf chuckled slightly at my words.

"Aye, I've tried twenty-seven new kinds of ale and learned I'm just the right height to give a human girl a good time. That doesn't make me a good man," the Dwarf sighed. We were silent for a long time, and I closed my eyes, listening to the crackling of the fire, and the soft grating sound of Sten sharpening Asala a short ways off. "Hm, so you're married?" Oghren asked me, and I nearly jumped at the question.

"What?" I asked, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Back at the Gauntlet. The Guardian said that you were betrothed," he reminded me, and I pursed my lips, shrugging.

"The uh…wedding never actually _happened_. It got interrupted," I explained.

"You don't seem like the marrying type," Oghren remarked, and I snorted.

" _Thanks,_ Oghren. That's what every woman wants to hear," I said sarcastically. "And it was an arranged marriage anyway – didn't actually _meet_ the groom until we were nearly at the altar." I looked at him oddly. "So wait, you ask me about my betrothed, but not the fact that I'm a sodding _demon?_ " I asked incredulously, and he chuckled.

"Heh, I've got plenty to say about you being a demon, boss, but I think Alistair would come and strangle me if I said it out loud," he grinned, and I made a face.

"Oh. Uh…thanks for the…discretion?" I said, suddenly glad that he wasn't talking about my demon aspects. Oghren chuckled at my look, leaning over to his pack and pulling out a flask, smiling slightly as he nodded to me.

"I was thinking, we've been through a lot together now. We're like old war buddies," he began, and my eyes widened slightly at his words. "So I figure, why not invite you to share a drink? A drink from my own stash, my family's recipe and dedicated to my comrades in arms," Oghren said, holding out the flask to me.

"I…I don't know what to say," I smiled, and Oghren laughed, giving me a hearty pat on the back.

"You say bottoms up, that's what!" he replied, handing me the drink.

"I'd like to, but that stuff's a little strong for me," I admitted, although I uncorked the flask and sniffed at its contents.

"Aye, I know. But never fear, Oghren will be right here to hold your head while you vomit," the Dwarf chuckled, and I smiled, nodding.

"Alright, then. I'll take a sip," I relented, and Oghren laughed, a wide grin on his face.

"Yes! The Warden steps up!" he said, and I tipped the flask back, taking a draught.

oooo

I let out a groan, coming-to and blinking in the bright sunlight. I felt something shifting next to me, and I covered my eyes, squinting as they adjusted to the light. I must have passed out after Oghren had given me his flask – I was lying next to the cook fire as Alistair prepared breakfast, my head on Olan's back as the dog wrapped himself around me. A cloak had been draped over us, and I blinked a few times, looking at Alistair.

"Morning," he greeted, "are you feeling alright?" he added, seeing my face turn green as I tried to get up.

"Ugh…my head's throbbing…and my tongue feels like a fish," I groaned, falling back against Olan, who grumbled something softly to me, nuzzling my cheek.

Oghren joined us by the campfire, chuckling at my disheveled appearance and sitting nearby, grinning at me. "You handled that like a champ – passed right out after less than a thimbleful," he remarked, and I groaned, waving a hand at him.

"I _told_ you it was too strong for me," I complained good-naturedly, smiling as I leaned groggily against the mabari and wrapping my cloak around my shoulders. "But _damn_ Oghren, you must have one hell of a constitution," I sighed.

"How do you feel?" the Dwarf teased, and I gave a loud moan in response, rolling my eyes exaggeratedly. "That just means it's working," he chuckled. "Ride the rockslide, my friend!" I smiled, slowly sitting up and moving closer to the fire, running a hand through my messy hair as I tried to settle it down. "I-I just wanted to tell you, after all we've been through, you're like family to me. Closest thing I've had in years," Oghren added in a milder tone, and I smiled warmly at the Dwarf, throwing my arms around his shoulders.

"I feel the same way," I grinned, and he smiled, patting my back as I settled back down.

"Aw, Warden. I do believe I'm getting all misty-eyed," he chuckled. "But that could be because those beans are getting chatty, if you know what I mean," he added, and I laughed.

oooo

We reached Redcliffe in the evening, after a few more days of travel, and Alistair, Wynne and I went right to Arl Eamon's quarters, where Teagan and Isolde awaited eagerly for the Ashes – we had sent a messenger ahead as soon as we had reached the village, sending word to the castle.

"Oh, thank the Maker you have returned!" Isolde gasped as we entered the Arl's room, looking at us with hope in her eyes as I produced the small bag containing the Ashes from my pocket.

"Wynne?" I asked, handing her the pouch, and she nodded, looking to the mage that had been stationed to watch Eamon and Connor. The young man poured out a glass of water, and Wynne opened the bag, dropping the pinch of Ashes into the water and stirring it. The pair of mages held up Eamon's head and helped the man drink, settling him back down and holding their hands over him.

I looked at Alistair as I felt him take my hand, his eyes trained on the Arl, and I gripped his fingers reassuringly, taking a tiny step closer to him. We could sense magic thrumming through the room, the air crackling with energy as the pair of mages cast a healing spell. The rippling pulse of magic dissipated from the room, and the air hung heavy with tense silence.

A low, soft groan from the bed drew our attention, and the entire room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as Arl Eamon's eyes slowly cracked open. They were clear, blue-grey, like Teagan's, and bright with life as he slowly sat up, his gaze moving slowly around the room, lingering over each person until they landed on Alistair. He glanced up at Wynne, who was the closest healer, and spoke.

"Wh-where am I?" he asked softly, his voice weak from not having been used for so long.

"Be calm, Brother. You have been deathly ill for a very long time. Do you remember nothing?" Teagan said gently, walking to his brother's side, and Eamon looked at him in confusion.

"Teagan? What are you doing here? Where is Isolde?" Eamon asked, and Isolde joined Teagan by her husband's side, taking his hands in hers, her eyes filled with tears of joy.

"I am here, my husband," she murmured, kissing the back of his hand, and the Arl let out a soft sigh of relief, rubbing away her tears gently with his thumb.

"And Connor? Where is my boy? Where is our son?" he asked, and Isolde nodded towards the hall.

"He is sleeping in his room; he lives, though many others are dead. There is much to tell you, husband," Isolde murmured, and Eamon sat up slowly, looking at his wife and brother.

"Dead? Then…it was not a dream?" he murmured, glancing back around the room.

"Much has happened since you fell ill, Brother. Some of it will not be…easy for you to hear," Teagan murmured, and Eamon let out a long sigh.

"Then tell me. I wish to hear all of it," he replied.

oooo

It must have been past midnight by the time Teagan, Alistair and I had told Arl Eamon everything that had happened since he had slipped into his coma. We were in the Arl's office, and as we spoke, I noticed his eyes lingering on Alistair, and each time they did, they would dart across his desk, as if searching for something. _Is he…looking for the amulet?_ I wondered – I would need to remind myself to tell Alistair about that; I was sure that the two needed to talk.

"This is most troubling," Eamon murmured, stroking his beard in thought, once we had finished. "There is much to be done, that is true. But I should first be thankful to those who have done so much," he added, looking at Alistair and me. "Grey Wardens, you have not only saved my life but kept my family safe as well," he began. "I am in your debt. Will you permit me to offer you a reward for your service?" the Arl asked, and I bowed my head.

"Thank you, my Arl, but all we require is your assistance against the Blight," I replied politely, and the man smiled.

"I understand, but regardless of your motivations I feel you are worthy of a reward. I would like to honor your efforts, nothing more," he insisted, and I nodded.

"As you wish," I relented.

"Then allow me to declare you and those traveling with you champions of Redcliffe. You will always be welcome guests within these halls," the Arl declared. "And for you, Warden, a shield of the same make as those that have been given to our finest knights," he added, standing and pulling an ornate shield with Redcliffe heraldry from the wall, handing it to Alistair.

"Thank you, my lord," he bowed, taking the shield graciously.

"We should speak of Loghain, Brother. There is no telling what he will do once he learns of your recovery," Teagan spoke up, and Eamon nodded.

"Loghain instigates a civil war even though the darkspawn are on our very doorstep. Long I have known him. He is a sensible man; one who never desired power," he sighed, looking troubled.

"I was there when he announced he was taking control of the throne, Eamon. He is mad with ambition, I tell you," Teagan argued, and Eamon looked sadly at his desk. His sadness turned to controlled anger, and he folded his hands together.

"Mad indeed. Mad enough to kill Cailan, to attempt to kill myself and destroy my lands," he murmured. "Whatever happened to him, Loghain must be stopped. What's more, we can scarce afford to fight this war to its bitter end," he added.

"But you hold great influence among the nobility – surely you can unite them against Loghain," Alistair chimed in, and Eamon stroked his beard, nodding slightly.

"I could unite those opposing Loghain, yes. But not _all_ oppose him; he has some very powerful allies," he cautioned. "We have no time to wage a campaign against him. Someone must surrender if Ferelden is to have any chance at fighting the darkspawn."

"We must make Loghain capitulate, then," I said. "Which won't be easy," I added under my breath with a sigh.

"I agree. Loghain will pay for his heinous crimes. But our armies must be reserved for the darkspawn, not for each other," Eamon replied. "I will spread word of Loghain's treachery, both here and against the king. But it will be but a claim made without proof," he added. He looked thoughtfully at Alistair for a few moments, and I sensed the man tense beside me. "Those claims will give Loghain's allies pause, but we must combine it with a challenge Loghain cannot ignore. We need someone with a stronger claim to the throne than Loghain's daughter, the queen," Eamon continued, and I tensed as well, knowing what was coming.

"Are you referring to Alistair, Brother? Are you certain?" Teagan asked, looking at Alistair now as well, who had gotten painfully tense under their combined gaze.

"Abelas, ma vhenan – it seems we cannot avoid this," I murmured softly, glancing up at Alistair apologetically. "So you intend to put Alistair forth as king?" I asked, and Eamon nodded slightly, his eyes holding mine for a few moments – he hadn't missed our little exchange.

"Teagan and I have a claim through marriage, but we would seem opportunists, no better than Loghain. Alistair's claim is by blood," Eamon replied.

"And what about me? Does anyone care what I want?" Alistair asked, and Eamon looked at him apologetically.

"You have a responsibility, Alistair. Without you, Loghain wins. I would have to support him, for the sake of Ferelden. Is that what you want?" Eamon argued, and Alistair tried not to make a face – he had been cornered.

"I…but I… No, my lord," he murmured, bowing his head.

"I see only one way to proceed," Eamon continued. "I will call for a Landsmeet, a gathering of all of Ferelden's nobility in the city of Denerim. There, Ferelden can decide who shall rule, one way or another." He turned his gaze on me, "then the business of fighting our true foe can begin. What say you to that, my friend? I do not wish to proceed without your blessing."

"My blessing?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "Why do you need my blessing?"

The Arl seemed almost amused by my confusion, smiling gently at me. "None of this would be possible without you. You led Alistair here, you saved my life with the Urn of Sacred Ashes… It's your lead I follow," he said. "I am a credible enough figure in this nation to call the Landsmeet, but I hold no illusions that I could face Loghain without you. Surely, you see that."

"Then…I suppose we should proceed with your plan, my lord," I replied. "But perhaps we should wait until the spring – the darkspawn cannot stand the cold, and won't move any further into Ferelden until then, and I doubt that Loghain will attempt a military campaign in winter," I added, and Arl Eamon nodded.

"Very well, I will send out the word in early Guardian, to give the nobility time to travel to Denerim," he agreed. "But before we proceed, I believe there is the matter of the mage…my son's tutor. He still lives, I understand," Eamon added, glancing at Teagan, who nodded.

"Yes, he is still here, in the castle," the Bann replied.

"Have him brought here, Teagan. I wish to see him," Eamon asked, and Teagan nodded, going to the door and calling to a servant, asking her to fetch Jowan. A few minutes later, a tentative knock came at the door, and Jowan entered, looking nervously about as he stood before the Arl, his eyes pointing to the ground in shame. "Jowan. What you have done is not in question," Eamon began, his eyes growing cold as he looked at the hapless mage. "You tried to assassinate me and set into motion a series of events that nearly destroyed everything I cherish. What have you to say in your own defense?"

Jowan closed his eyes for a moment before letting out a long breath, looking Eamon in the eyes as he spoke. "Nothing, my lord…other than to say I am sorry. I expect no mercy for what I have done," Jowan replied, and Eamon contemplated the young man in silence, his gaze turning on me, next.

"I see. Grey Warden, have you anything to say on Jowan's behalf?" the Arl asked, and I took a few steps forward, placing myself between Eamon and Jowan. The Arl watched me curiously, his eyes taking in the implications of my actions as I partially shielded the mage from his gaze.

"My lord, I would like you to understand that Jowan did not act against you out of loyalty for Loghain, but loyalty to his country," I began, choosing my words carefully; I could conscript Jowan to save his life if I had to, but I didn't want to risk antagonizing the Arl in doing so, and hoped it wouldn't come to that. "He was convinced by Loghain that you were a danger to Ferelden – he was doing what he thought would protect his homeland," I argued. "He has also proven his loyalty to us; Jowan has saved us many times over with his magic – he has never once tried to escape while in our company, despite having ample opportunity to do so."

"Oh? That is…unexpected," Eamon remarked, glancing between Jowan and me. "And what would you have me do? As the injured party, my ability to see the merciful path is…strained," he added, and I bowed my head.

"I simply ask that Jowan remain in my custody until further notice," I replied, and Eamon's eyes flashed with a hint of exasperation before he composed himself.

"That I cannot do. He is a maleficar and I cannot unleash him on a land already wracked by war and chaos. I am sorry," Eamon said, his tone firm, and I straightened, raising my chin slightly as I faced the man.

"My Arl, Jowan seeks atonement for what he has done. Surely battling alongside the Grey Wardens is a worthy cause, even if he is not yet one of us," I argued, and his eyes narrowed at the last bit. I thought I caught the faintest of smiles on the Arl's lips as his beard twitched, and he let out a soft breath, looking at Jowan for a few moments before returning his gaze to me.

"I see that you will not be argued against this, Warden," he sighed. "Very well – Jowan may remain in your company, but on the condition that he not leave the castle unattended for the duration of your stay," the Arl added, and I nodded gratefully.

"Thank you, my lord," Jowan bowed his head as he was dismissed, looking at me with shining, hopeful eyes.

"Now back to the matter of the Landsmeet," Eamon said, bringing our attention back to him. "It will take some time to recall my forces and organize our allies. I would prefer to wait until that is done before calling the Landsmeet. In the meantime, I suggest you pursue the remainder of the Grey Warden treaties, once weather permits travel. We will need all the allies we can get if we are to defeat the darkspawn horde," Eamon finished, standing from his chair.

"Thank you, your grace," I bowed my head as he dismissed us, and I glanced up at Alistair, pointing with my eyes towards the Arl. He looked at me questioningly, and I rolled my eyes, nodding slightly in Eamon's direction and mouthing the word 'amulet'.

"Oh, and Alistair," Eamon said, and I glanced up, heat rising in my cheeks as I realized he had seen what I was doing, "might we speak tomorrow? I imagine you've had a hard journey."

Alistair nodded, "of course, my lord." The two of us left the room after bidding the Arl and Teagan goodnight, following a serving girl and heading up to our rooms. Or rather _room_ ; I looked at the girl oddly when she brought us to the door, noticing her eyes lingering on the black ring I was wearing, and I glanced up at Alistair once she left.

"Seems the servants think we're married now," I murmured, indicating the ring, and Alistair recognized the obsidian material from the Gauntlet.

"Hmm…" he murmured, opening the door and smiling slightly as we walked in. "I suppose this saves us sneaking around," he teased, and I smirked as he closed the door, locking it for the night. I slid off my boots, propping them up next to the side table and taking off my pants, sitting on the edge of the bed and nodding towards my bag.

"Toss me my nightgown?" I asked, and Alistair opened the top of my bag, pausing and smiling at me.

"Now why would I do a silly thing like that?" he teased, laying down behind me, and I turned around, playing with the laces on the collar of his shirt.

"Oh? I thought you might be too tired for that," I murmured, leaning over and kissing him, trailing kisses along his jaw and following down his throat as he wrapped his arms around my waist, rolling me over on the bed so that I lay in his arms.

"I'm never too tired for you, love," he whispered in reply, and I smirked as I felt him slide off my shirt, plucking at the laces on my corset.

"That sounds rather saucy. Care to explain yourself?" I teased, and he chuckled as I helped him pull his shirt over his head.

"Maybe I should just show you," he grinned, wrapping his arms around me as we melted together.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Note:

So I'll understand if anyone thinks that the party's reaction to Adeline's reveal is a bit…lackluster. But they've seen some sh*t, traveling with the Wardens – after Kinloch Hold, the archdemon, the broodmother, dragon cultists and a high dragon, they probably wouldn't be surprised if Morrigan actually _was_ a nug in disguise.

Also, if you haven't gauged it by her reactions, Adeline is very much a Mama Bear [despite not actually being a mother]. You can look it up on TV Tropes if you don't know what this means.


	42. Chapter 42: Time

Chapter 42

Time

Author's note:

We get a brief visit from some familiar faces in this chapter…

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[Firstfall – winter]

We planned to spend the harshest part of winter in Redcliffe, and wait until early spring before searching the Brecilian for any signs of the Dalish. Neria said that she knew a clan that usually traveled around these parts, and would be able to recognize traces of their campsites. We took time to relax and rest after months of travel; I spent time between experimenting with traps and grenades with Katja, helping Jowan with his research – he would ask me for blood samples, and even asked me for one of the barbed scales from my tail – and sparring in the courtyard with some of my companions, Ser Perth, his knights, and even Bann Teagan, on occasion. Connor was getting much better at controlling his magic – I could sense his strength growing with each passing day – and Wynne and the mage sent from Kinloch Hold oversaw his training.

One afternoon, a few weeks into our stay, Sten found me in the courtyard as I finished up a bout of pies ligeros with Zevran, coming out in a tie – I was vastly improved from when we had sparred in Orzammar, and the Elf was impressed with how quickly I had learned. I looked up at Sten questioningly as he approached me, and I smiled slightly.

"Hello, Sten," I greeted, "is there something you need?"

"I have been mistaken," the Qunari said simply, and I cocked my head in confusion.

"What do you mean?" I asked, and his violet eyes were serious as he looked at me.

"You are a soldier worthy to stand among the Beresaad. I did not think so when we first met," he replied, and I smiled at the Qunari.

"What changed your mind?" I questioned, and he gave me one of his rare smiles, his eyes unusually warm.

"You did, of course," he said. "The day will come when the arishok sends us here. On that day, I will not look to find you on the battlefield," he added, and my eyes widened slightly.

"Sten…?"

"Perhaps it will not come to pass. There is no point in dwelling on it," he murmured, turning and walking off before I could ask what he was talking about.

"…huh…"

I found Zevran later that afternoon, presenting him with the pair of Antivan leather boots I had found in Haven. "The weather is going to get even colder, so I thought you might like these," I said, handing him the inscribed leather boots.

"Hmmm. That smell…" he murmured, taking in a long breath as he held the boots, a slow grin spreading across his face. "This is Antivan leather, isn't it? I would know that smell anywhere!" he chuckled. "I don't know where you found these, but thank you," he added, looking over the boots with shining, amber eyes.

"What are you waiting for? Try them on!" I encouraged, and he scoffed playfully, turning the boots over and looking at the masterful craftsmanship.

"But I'm not finished _admiring_ them, yet!" he argued, taking in another long breath. "Can you smell that? Like rotting flesh. Just like back in Antiva City," he grinned with excitement. "Now if only you could find me a prostitute or two, a bowl of fish chowder and a corrupt politician, I'd really feel like I was home!" Zevran was the happiest I had ever seen him. He knelt, taking off his old boots and slipping on the new ones, adjusting the straps and tapping the toes against the floor until they sat right. "And they fit, as well! Marvelous!" he sighed, smiling warmly at me. "Thank you, my friend."

"It was no problem, Zevran," I reflected his smile. "I am happy that you are happy," I added, and he chuckled, pinching my cheek affectionately.

"My selfless little Warden," he teased, laughing at my look of mock indignation.

I continued practicing in the courtyard until nearly everyone else had gone – the castle guards whistled and applauded at our matches whenever someone tried to spar me, hoping to catch me when I was tired out. Even Ser Perth fell, although with the knight, I decided to get serious – more out of respect for the man than anything – and it _was_ a rather close match.

My body was quivering by the time I returned to my room, still trembling with the adrenalin rush of sparring, even as my muscles ached – I almost laughed as I realized I could probably keep practicing, if my muscles didn't seize up and give out first; my stamina had improved massively in the months following the Joining, and I wondered just how far I could push myself, if needed.

I shed my padded vest and shirt, sighing as I walked around the small partition in the corner, finding a steaming bath with scented oils already prepared in the tub set into the room's floor. I pulled off the rest of my clothing, unpinning my hair and sinking gratefully into the water, my muscles shuddering with relief as steam rolled off my skin.

I heard the door creak open, smiling slightly as I closed my eyes, resting my head in my arms as I relaxed against the side of the basin. "You know," I murmured, glancing over as I heard Alistair lock the door, "you should really knock when you know a lady's bathing," I teased. He smiled slightly, and I raised an eyebrow as he shed his own clothes, sliding into the water and leaning against me, wrapping his arms around my middle and kissing my shoulder.

"How do you know I didn't plan all this?" he teased, kissing up the back of my neck, and I let out a soft moan as he began massaging my back and shoulders, the tension slowly melting away under his fingers.

"I misjudged you, then," I chuckled, "you've become quite the scheming sinner." He grinned, and I gasped as he pulled me back against him, leaning his shoulders against the other side of the tub and holding me gently around the waist.

"I never was a very pious Templar," he murmured, and I rolled over in the water, resting my cheek on his collarbone as he ran a hand through my hair.

"Well…when your lover is the embodiment of desire…" I teased, kissing his chin as he chukled, and he pressed his forehead against mine. "So…do you think the Arl will be mad?" I asked after a while, glancing up at him, and Alistair raised an eyebrow at my words. "About the servants thinking we're married," I clarified.

"…I don't know," he admitted, wrapping his arms tighter around me and pressing his lips against my forehead, "and frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn," he added cheekily, and I chuckled. "Why? Do you not like the idea?" he added, and I stared up at him.

"Of…of marriage?" I murmured, and he gave a small nod. I glanced down at the water and let out a long sigh, resting my head back against his chest. "I wish we had that luxury, my love."

"Maybe one day we will," Alistair whispered, and I glanced up at him again. There was a strange look in his eyes, a mixture of uncertainty and determination, and I felt my heart fluttering at the thought. I gave a weak smile before it faded, and Alistair frowned. "What's wrong?" he murmured, placing a finger under my chin.

"Alistair…love…" I sighed, "even if we _could_ marry…" I trailed off. "I could never have your children."

Alistair smiled sadly at me, pressing his forehead against mine again. "Where did that come from?" he chuckled, and I blushed, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

"I…never mind," I mumbled, and Alistair ran his fingers through my wet hair.

"But…if we _could_ have…children…?" his voice was soft, and I nuzzled deeper against his neck.

"I want to have a family with you," I whispered, kissing his throat as he hugged me tightly.

oooo

The weeks continued to move by; the weather got colder, and it began snowing. It snowed so much that we were almost trapped inside the castle at one point – the snowdrifts were almost a foot taller than _Sten_ was.

I was surprised by how well everyone in the group dealt with me being a demon, and I took time to speak to each person about it, but really, no one seemed to be bothered. The general response was that I was still the same person, no matter what I looked like – it wasn't as if I had gotten possessed or anything.

I checked up on Bella at the tavern, which she had renamed "Wardens' Rest", much to my chagrin, and found that some interesting characters had come to work for me. Lloyd had left – headed to another village, a supposed – and three people were now working as host, bartender and waitress, with Bella as their manager.

The host was a quiet, surly fellow with bright orange hair named Roland, with a build that reminded me of Alistair's own – he had been a warrior at some point; he might even had used a sword and shield like Alistair. The bartender was a laid-back man with rippling muscles, dark hair and a square jaw, decorated with a short beard – his name was Fergus, and I could tell he had also been a warrior once. The new waitress, Celia, had long, blonde hair and bright amber eyes – the way she carried herself reminded me of the ladies-in-waiting I had seen in the Palace District back in Denerim.

These three obviously had a story behind them, but Bella said that they had just shown up out of the blue one day, asking for work. When they had found out that I was the owner of the tavern, they apologized profusely for working there without asking – I simply waved them off and said I wouldn't turn down anyone looking for a job, so long as they minded themselves.

As I sat at the bar – grinning, now that Bella had gotten adjustable stools – Fergus asked me about my travels. "Have you been up north, near Highever?" he asked, and I shook my head.

"No, the closest to Highever we've gone was Denerim," I replied. "I…I've heard some news about what happened, though," I added, and Fergus's face fell. "Did you have family there?" I asked softly, and he nodded, his eyes downcast.

"They…were at Highever Castle," he murmured. I had heard that Highever Castle had been attacked – though no one was sure by whom – and that the Couslands had all been killed in the attack; according to the gossip around Denerim, the last time we were there, Rendon Howe had been named Teyrn of Highever. When I told Fergus of all this, I could see rage in his eyes, and he set his jaw, as if trying not to betray his anger. I looked at him steadily, wondering who this man and his companions were – the others had stiffened at the mention of Highever and of Howe as well. I decided not to butt in on their business, however, and bade them good day, returning to the castle.

oooo

I sat with Wynne in the main hall, sometimes, as she knitted by the fire, Olan and Schmooples lying nearby as they basked in the fire's warmth. Wynne asked me all sorts of things about the Fade that I could remember, and sometimes Jowan and Morrigan would come and join us, listening in fascination as I described the different types of demons I could remember, and aspects of the Fade that were still a mystery to the mages. I had never been to the Black City, but I had seen it from a distance; this was one of the few things I refused to speak about to them – it was not meant for the mortals to know.

Wynne and I sat together, one such evening, and I glanced up from the book I had been reading – "The Legend of King Calenhad" – when a thought came to me. I recalled our discussion back in Haven, about a cure, and that Wynne said she was content with the life she had lived.

"Wynne?" I asked softly, and she paused in her knitting, watching me with her clear, grey eyes, nodding slightly. "Do you have any regrets at all?" She looked at me for a long time in silence, her gaze moving slowly to the fire as she let out a long sigh.

"I try not to dwell too much on the mistakes of my past, of which there are many. I would go quite mad if I did that," she began. "But I do have one regret – the greatest misstep of my life, made even more grave because it had dire consequences for someone else," she admitted, her eyes carrying deep sadness as they reflected the orange light of the flames. "Years ago, I was assigned as mentor to a lad, Aneirin. He was my first apprentice." Wynne's voice was soft, and I had to strain to hear her over the crackling of the fire. "Aneirin was an Elf, raised in one of the Alienages, and he was very mistrustful of humans, especially humans in authority."

"Yes, I know the feeling," I remarked with a small sigh, thinking of home, and Wynne glanced back at me from the fire, her eyes curious.

"Really? You don't seem quite so on edge as other Elves," she observed, and I smiled slightly, giving a small shrug.

"You get used to dealing with shems when you're constantly traveling with them," I admitted, "and the present company's not so bad," I added. "I can see how this could be trouble for someone mentoring an apprentice, though."

"What Aneirin needed was time; time to get used to his new home, time to emerge from his shell so we could build a rapport," Wynne continued, regret creeping into her voice as she looked at me sadly. "I gave him no such time. I was young and arrogant," she sighed, looking down at the knitting needles on her lap. "'He is a mage,' I thought, 'he needs to grow up and act like one'. I expected too much from him, too quickly – I gave no consideration to his origin, or his feelings," she murmured, shaking her head. "And he retreated further from me. All I could think of was how stubborn he was, how he was throwing away all his talent and his potential, just to be difficult."

I looked at Wynne with surprise – she had always seemed so patient and understanding, that I really couldn't imagine her as she described. "That just seems so unlike you," I remarked, and she smiled slightly at my look of confusion, chuckling softly, with a hint of sadness in her voice.

"Oh, age and wisdom have mellowed me. I was quite different back then; much more…unforgiving," Wynne sighed. "You cannot plant crops in the cold wintry ground; you cannot teach a student who is closed off and unresponsive," she continued. "Patience is what is needed, and I learned that too late to help him."

"What happened to Aneirin?" I asked gently, and Wynne looked back at the fire for a few moments, folding her hands together on her lap.

"Aneirin ran away from the Circle, one night," she whispered, pain in her voice as her shoulders tensed. "I had berated him over some trivial, ridiculous matter that I no longer remember. I drove him away because of something utterly unimportant. He was a child, fourteen at the time of his leaving. They had his phylactery and they hunted him down…"

"Why didn't they just bring him back to the tower?" I asked, and Wynne looked at me sadly.

"They called him 'maleficar'. He was a child, misunderstood and lost. I begged the Templars to tell me if he suffered, if they gave him a quick death…" she shut her eyes, taking in a slow, calming breath. "I got no answers from them. I was his mentor and they wouldn't even tell me what became of him."

I reached out a hand and gently placed it over hers, feeling her hands trembling as she looked at me. "It's not your fault, Wynne," I murmured softly, and she let out a long sigh.

"I should have known better. I had the best mentors; they were kind, compassionate…why didn't I learn from them?" she murmured as she found her voice. "I failed Aneirin. All I had to do was listen to him – he would try to talk to me, and I would tell him to concentrate on his spells. He talked about the Alienage sometimes…and the Dalish. He always talked about looking for the Dalish Elves," Wynne recalled, and I thought of our last treaty.

"Maybe he _did_ find the Dalish," I said hopefully – I would have to remember, once we found a tribe; it might have been too much to hope for…but if there was a chance that Aneirin was still alive, I would ask.

"The Templars are well-trained and thorough. That he still lives…it would be a vain hope," Wynne sighed. "The apprentices that came after Aneirin benefited greatly from the lessons I learned from him; in a sense, he was my teacher, and I his student."

"Then maybe his sacrifice was worthwhile," I murmured, and Wynne nodded slowly.

"And there it is. My story; my one greatest regret."

oOo

Eamon couldn't remember the last time he had seen such a strange company of people. Five humans, two Dwarves, three Elves, a Qunari, and a mabari war hound; a mottled party of warriors, mages and rogues. _I suppose…considering that their leaders are a pair of Grey Wardens, it may not be so strange,_ the Arl mused; the Grey Wardens could unite many nations and races under their banner, and he supposed that the company remaining at Redcliffe was a clear reflection of this.

He had finally spoken to Alistair, after years of not having seen the man; he had changed so much that Eamon almost hadn't recognized him. He had tempered his anger over the years, and bore himself with a sense of confidence and dignity when he spoke with Teagan and Eamon – more and more, they saw Maric in him, and Eamon knew that with time and advice, Alistair would became the king that Ferelden so desperately needed.

Eamon worried, though – Alistair and the other Grey Warden, Adeline, were married, or so the servants said. He had seen a black ring on the Elf woman's hand, and the silver one on Alistair's, but wasn't sure what to make of them; had Alistair really married her? Knowing that he could become king, and be forced to leave her?

The Arl spoke to a few of the Wardens' companions about this; the cheerful red-haired woman, Leliana, told him that the two were not married, but wondered whether or not Alistair was considering proposing to Adeline. "Although…now that Alistair will be put forth as king, I am not sure what the two will do," she admitted, and Eamon looked at her thoughtfully.

"You know them far better than I do, Leliana," Eamon remarked. "What do you think Alistair would do?"

Leliana pursed her lips as she thought, placing a hand lightly on her cheek. "I believe that he will do what he thinks is right…" she began, "and that Adeline might set him on that course, even if it means the end of their relationship – they both understand their situations, and that now, they are making the most of their time together."

"…they walk a dangerous path," Eamon sighed, "and duty may part them. But I cannot grudge them their feelings; they have seen so much suffering, it is almost a relief that they can still smile as they do."

Leliana looked thoughtful for a few moments, pursing her lips as she glanced out a window, watching as snow began to fall. "Perhaps things will change, in time," she murmured.

oooo

Zevran stood in a small alcove by a window, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. He had had another nightmare – it had been so long since the last one that he had actually woken up screaming, and Neria had leapt for her weapon, thinking that the castle was under attack. The assassin had left the room without a word, wanting to be alone, and Neria respected that, sitting and waiting for him to return.

Zevran held up a hand, looking at it in the faint moonlight that streamed through the snow-heavy clouds – it was still shaking. He ran the hand over his face and let out a low groan as the images flashed through his mind. "¿Por qué estas imágenes todavía me persiguen, incluso ahora? Nunca puedo escapar de ellos?"*

Light footsteps drew his attention, and he watched Neria walking slowly down the hall, a bed sheet wrapped lightly around her shoulders. She stood in front of Zevran, looking up at him and gingerly reaching out a hand to touch his face, pausing as he reflexively flinched away. He looked at her sadly, his heart aching as he saw understanding in her eyes. She placed her hand very lightly on his cheek, stroking his jaw with the back of her hand, and Zevran let out a soft sigh as the tension in his chest unwound, and the trembling stopped.

"Did you have a nightmare, emma lath?" Neria whispered, cupping his cheek with her delicate fingers, her caramel hair colored silver in the moonlight. Zevran nodded slowly, taking her hand in his and kissing the palm, looking at her as she ran her thumb across his lower lip.

"There is a reason I accepted this mission in Ferelden, far away from home," Zevran began slowly, his voice low and strained, "and it had nothing to do with any thought that I might leave the Crows. Meeting Adeline, after all, was quite an accident. My last mission before this one…did not end well."

Neria was quiet for a time, looking up at Zevran with clear, blue eyes as she spoke. "It failed? Or…something else?" she asked gently, and Zevran let out a long breath, closing his eyes.

"The mission itself was quite successful; I mean that it did not end well for me," he clarified. "You must realize that until that day I was cocky and arrogant. I was the best Crow in Antiva, I believed, and I bragged of my conquests often…both as an assassin and lover."

"You were _more_ cocky and arrogant?" Neria smiled slightly, trying to cheer him up, and Zevran gave a sad chuckle, kissing the back of her hand as he held it to his lips.

"Indeed. I was often told I was insufferable…right before I ended up in bed with someone. Such is how it was," he replied, his smile fading as the light in his eyes dimmed. "One of the Crow masters grew tired of my boasting. My bid for an incredibly difficult mark was accepted, much to my surprise: A wealthy merchant with many guards, and completely silent. Taliesen – a man who I often worked with – agreed to be part of my team, as well as an Elven lass named Rinna, who I also worked with quite often; we were a familiar trio, among the Crows," Zevran recalled. His eyes grew distant, and he sighed. "She was…a marvel. Tough, smooth, wicked. Eyes that gleamed like justice. Everything I thought I desired."

"And you fell in love," Neria murmured, and Zevran gave a small, short nod, closing his eyes and rubbing a hand across his forehead, taking in a slow breath.

"Rinna was special. I had closed off my heart, I thought, but she touched something within me. It frightened me," he admitted softly. "When Taliesen revealed to me that Rinna had accepted a bribe from the merchant, told him of our plan, I readily agreed that she needed to pay the price and allowed Taliesen to kill her," Zevran opened his eyes, and Neria could see deep hatred in them – he had such deep self-loathing that it almost broke her heart. "Rinna begged me not to. On her knees, with tears in her eyes, she told me that she loved me and had not betrayed us. I laughed in her face and said that even if it were true, I didn't care."

Zevran was quiet for a long time, and Neria looked up at him sadly. "But that wasn't true," she whispered, and he shook his head slowly, pain in his eyes.

"I convinced myself it was," he replied. "Taliesen cut her throat and I watched her bleed as she stared up at me. I spat on her for betraying the Crows. When Taliesen and I finally assassinated the merchant, we found the true source of his information – Rinna had not betrayed us after all." Neria's face turned white, and she felt her stomach drop as Zevran covered his mouth, looking as if he were fighting back tears.

"You had no way of knowing that," Neria argued gently, and Zevran scoffed, his eyes bitter as he looked at the ground, the tears receding.

"Of course not; I didn't care to know," he spat, anguish in his voice. "I…wanted to tell the Crows what we had done, our mistake. Taliesen convinced me not to; he said it would be a foolish waste. So we reported that Rinna had died in the attempt," Zevran continued, and his eyes burned with anger. "We needn't have bothered – the Crows knew what we had done. The master who disliked me told me so to my face; he said the Crows knew…and they didn't care. And one day my turn would come."

"Why would he do that?" Neria whispered, shocked by such an act of needless cruelty and death.

"To rub it in my face, perhaps. That I was nothing; that she was nothing," Zevran replied. "I recall…Adeline once asked why I wanted to leave the Crows. In truth, what I wanted was to die – what better way than to throw myself at one of the fabled Grey Wardens? And then…this happened. And here I am," Zevran sighed, looking at Neria.

The two were silent for a long time, and she looked up at him with sadness in her eyes. "Why did you tell me this, Zevran?" she asked softly.

He gently reached out a hand and cupped her cheek, running his thumb along her jaw. "You have been a friend to me, and more. Far more than I deserve," he murmured. "It…feels good to speak of it to someone – I swore I never would," he admitted. "Whatever it is I sought by leaving Antiva, I think I have found it. I owe you a great deal."

"I'm glad you're here, Zevran," Neria whispered, placing her hands on his shoulders and leaning against him, resting her cheek against his chest and listening to his heartbeat. Zevran closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her, burying his nose in her hair and drinking in her scent – she smelled like fresh leaves after a rainstorm.

Neria looked up at him and kissed him gently, slowly wrapping her arms around his neck, covering them both with the bed sheet. Zevran chuckled, sweeping the woman's legs out from under her and carrying her back to their room. "And I am glad you are here as well," he replied as he placed her on the bed, laying down beside Neria as she bundled them together with the blankets, nestling against him as he held her.

oooo

Firstfall passed into Haring, and Haring into Wintermarch. Adeline and Alistair would take occasional scouting trips back towards the Korcari Wilds when the weather permitted, 'listening in' on the darkspawn horde. True to Adeline's word, the horde hadn't strayed far from the Wilds, and had even retreated deeper when the snow had come; the darkspawn couldn't stand the cold, although the young Wardens weren't sure why. Jowan had theorized that it was because they couldn't produce their own body-heat – that was why they remained underground like burrowing animals.

The pair of Wardens hadn't been having nightmares for weeks, either, and attributed it to the weather as well; the archdemon might be lying in wait as the darkspawn lay dormant for the winter, and a new sense of urgency crept over them – as soon as it was warm enough, they would travel to the Brecilian to find the Dalish.

In the meantime, in preparation for the Landsmeet, Alistair was given books on oratory to read, and studied politics with Eamon – the Templar was already fairly well educated, but needed to know more about public speaking and political science if he was to win over the other nobles. Eamon could see that he had an air of ease about him; his natural charm would help with his speaking, and all he needed was a nudge in the right direction.

Adeline practiced her speaking as well – she didn't think that she would have to be as well-spoken as Alistair, but wanted to be prepared to speak in front of the nobility without making a complete fool of herself. Eamon noticed that she actually seemed more nervous about speaking than Alistair, and asked her why.

"I…I don't do well with crowds," Adeline admitted to the Arl. "I have a very rational fear of people throwing things at my head if they don't like what I'm saying," she added, and Eamon nodded slightly. Alistair had told him many things about Adeline – it was clear that he admired her very much – but had warned him that she had had bad experiences in the past with humans, and especially human nobility, although he hadn't said much more.

"Fair enough – I will see about keeping speeches to a minimum," he said reassuringly, and Adeline gave him a small, relieved smile.

oooo

Morrigan was studying her mother's grimoire, leaning lightly against a wall as she noticed Sten watching her. She raised an eyebrow at the Qunari, but he remained silent. "So are you going to continue staring at me as if I am covered in eels?" she asked after a while, and Sten's violet eyes met her gold.

"Eels would be _something_ ," he replied, and Morrigan smirked at him.

"Prudery! How charming," she chuckled. "I expected paranoia. This is much better – I prefer to be stared at lustfully, if at all," she added, and Sten let out a soft sigh.

"Keep trying, then," he remarked, and Morrigan closed the grimoire, tucking it under an arm as she put a hand on her hip, slowly trailing it up her side.

"Oh? Then shall I demonstrate an act or two? And you may tell me hot or cold?" she asked, and Sten turned around, walking down the opposite hallway.

"I'll save time. Cold," he muttered, and Morrigan chuckled.

"You _are_ a tease," she grinned, her eyes flashing as she watched his retreating figure. Sten ignored her as he continued down the hall, passing by Wynne and Zevran as the Elf grinned at the old mage, leaning lightly against an alcove with a window.

"You know, Wynne…I have a friend back in Antiva who would be very excited to meet you," the assassin remarked, and the woman gave him a scathing look.

"Oh by the _Beloved_ …" she groaned, putting a hand across her eyes.

"Salvail prefers women with experience and maturity. He says they have more substance, are more robust and flavorful," Zevran continued unperturbed.

"Does he now?" Wynne asked, knowing that even if she tried walking away, Zevran would simply follow along behind her. _I swear, this man,_ she sighed, looking at the Elf with chagrin as he smirked at her.

"Indeed. No need to deny it, Zevran knows a fine bird when he sees one," he replied.

"I am not a bird," Wynne huffed with indignation, and Zevran chuckled.

"There is no reason to deny yourself the pleasure of male companionship, after all, yes? You might balk now, but I assure you, Salvail is a gentleman of means, and quite handsome…" he continued temptingly, and Wynne looked at him with severity in her eyes. _This needs to stop._ _ **Now**_ _,_ she thought, fed up with the man's pestering.

"I am going to walk away now. Calmly. Coolly. This is to save you the pain of having your brain forcibly removed through your ears," Wynne replied, her voice icily calm as she walked away.

Zevran watched her go, a small smile on his lips as he crossed his arms. "Tsk. This must be a Fereldan thing, I swear," he chuckled, shaking his head.

Wynne walked down the hall, heading towards the common area to read by the fire, as she liked to do. She smiled slightly as she found Adeline and Alistair there already, both sitting in armchairs by the crackling flames. Alistair was concentrating on a political science book, his brow furrowed slightly, and Adeline had a blank book across her legs as she sat curled up, sketching with a charcoal stick.

The two looked up and nodded in greeting at Wynne's approach, and the elderly mage walked over to Adeline, peering over her shoulder to see the sketch; it was Alistair, reading his book. She noticed the great care in which Adeline took as she drew his face, her eyes glowing with warmth as she peeked over the edge of her sketchbook, watching Alistair shyly. Wynne smiled at the two, turning and leaving them to their own devices – she could find a quiet place to read on her own.

oooo

"So Katja, what's your story?" Neria asked one night; she, Adeline, Leliana and Katja had been telling stories in the kitchen as they sat by the cook fire, drinking tea to keep warm. Morrigan had come as well, but had left as soon as Leliana started telling a romantic tale about a knight and a farmer's daughter who fell in love.

The Dwarf woman looked up from her drink, scratching Schmooples behind the ears as she leaned back against Olan – the mabari had taken quite a shine to her in the past few weeks. "My story?" she chuckled, looking around. "What, like how I ended up hiding in the mines?" she asked, and the others nodded. "Hmm…alright. I guess we've known each other long enough," Katja sighed, patting Olan's side. "It started off a normal enough day – the nugs were squealing, casteless lay dying in the gutter…"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Note: apologies for the gratuitous Spanish – I like to think that Zevran's accent comes out when he's angry or frustrated, and that he randomly breaks into Antivan when he's talking to himself.


	43. Chapter 43: Brand

Chapter 43

Brand

Author's note:

Here's a flashback to Katja's story

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Katja woke up to the same routine every day; get up, put on your armor and weapons, and meet up with Leske outside. She looked up at the wall next to her bed, pursing her lips – she had been lost in thought the night before, and she hurriedly scrawled out what she could remember on a bit of paper, tacking it to the wall. Paper was expensive, but Katja allowed herself to indulge in this – Rica bought it for her, along with some charcoal sticks, and the Dwarf would draw pages and pages of strange contraptions.

She had no idea if they would work – she hadn't the tools to make them – but when Rica saw the creations, she would smile. 'I wish we were smith caste,' Rica would say. 'You could be the next Branka, if anyone cared to look at your ideas. They're brilliant.' Katja clucked her tongue softly, her mood souring as she remembered her mother's words after that. 'Just like your damned father. Always dithering away with his mad scrabbling, wasting our money on paper and charcoal. I'd say you were lyrium addled if I didn't know any better.'

As she strapped her crossbow to her back and stepped out of her room, Katja paused, spotting the familiar, dark-haired Dwarf man. He wore nicer armor than most of the warrior caste – maybe even nicer than some of the nobles' personal guards – and had a thick, braided beard, long hair, and cold eyes, always narrowed in distaste as he looked down his hawk-nose at Rica. The red-haired Dwarf woman was sitting with her hands folded on her lap, listening to Beraht as he talked down to her, and Katja gritted her teeth, watching from the doorway. She would have liked nothing more than to march right up and let him know exactly what she thought of him, but such a display would gain her nothing, and cost Rica everything; their familay was already on loose sand without her stirring things up.

"I can't keep gambling on you forever, precious," Beraht said, crossing his arms as he looked at the woman. "You got a sweet look, something to light a man on fire. But you got to make it count." Rica spotted Katja by the door, frowning as she looked back at Beraht.

"Please, Beraht. I don't want to do this in front of my sister–" Rica began, but Beraht gave a soft snort, cutting her off as Katja walked over, her green eyes flashing in the faint light of the room. Beraht had never liked the young duster – she asked too many questions, looked too interested in everything, and had a bad attitude, just like her damned cloud-gazer father, before he had left for the surface.

"Why not? She knows the slope of the land, don't you, girl?" Beraht asked, looking at the red-haired woman.

"Didn't I tell you not to talk that way to my sister?" Katja asked, her voice low but sharp.

"You've told me a lot of things, not one of which meant more than a fart in the middens," Beraht scoffed, crossing his arms at the look of defiance in her eyes; she had always been a troublemaker, since the moment she had joined the carta. She and Leske both; if the two weren't such good enforcers, Beraht would have made them disappear long ago.

"Peace, Katja," Rica whispered, seeing the flash of anger in her sister's eyes.

"Before me, your sister was just another duster. Now check her out! Braids down to here, gold-capped teeth. She can recite Elf-poetry and play the string-harp. Every man's dream!" Beraht listed off Rica's qualities as if displaying an exotic animal up for auction at the market. "All she's gotta do is find a lord, squeeze out some kid who looks like him, and we're all living the easy life in the Diamond Quarter," he continued, and Rica looked down at her shoes, worry in her eyes.

She stood up and gazed at Katja, letting out a small sigh as she folded her hands together by her waist. "Please don't get involved. You know that never goes well," she pleaded softly, and Katja scoffed, glaring at Beraht.

"How much more does he think you can do?" she replied and Beraht looked at the two as if they were something he would scrape off the bottom of his boot.

"She can do whatever I tell her, even if that means walking into the king's own palace naked," the Dwarf man remarked, turning his gaze on Katja. " _You_ keep your head down and say, 'Aye' to any job I decide is low enough for scum like you," he said, looking back at Rica, "and in return, I put out coin so _you_ can doll yourself up and get a bellyful of some nobleman's brat." He looked at Katja with distaste, " _then_ you both go free. And _I_ get to join the family and be called, 'my lord' for the rest of the little prince's life."

"And her son'll call you uncle and come visit on name-days?" Katja replied sardonically, nodding towards Rica, and Beraht glowered at the rebellious woman.

"That's what everyone likes – a casteless with a big mouth," he muttered. "But I didn't come for the joy of your company, sweetness. I've been looking at my investments, and this one hasn't borne much gold," he added, looking at Rica with piercing eyes. "I'm giving you another week, precious. If you haven't found a patron, you're back to sweeping streets."

"But…I have. I've met someone…" Rica piped up, knitting her fingers together and looking at the ground. "That is, I didn't want to promise, but he seemed interested," she added in a softer tone.

"So get off her back and tell me my job for today," Katja added, taking a small step forward so that she was in front of Rica.

"Your buddy Leske's waiting outside. He knows what I'll need from you today," Beraht said, scowling at the pair of casteless women with distaste. "Don't even _think_ about bungling this job. Your whole family's on loose sand with me right now," he added pointedly at Katja, "and I _know_ you don't have anywhere else to turn."

Katja watched Beraht sweep out of their home, and she glanced back at Rica, who looked towards the door with worry, nervously knitting and un-knitting her fingers together. "I'm sorry you had to see that," Rica sighed, and Katja looked at her older sister sadly.

"I've seen it before, and I'll see it again," she replied, running her hand across her forehead and sliding it down her face with a soft groan – she hated seeing her sister talked down to by a filthy genlock like Beraht.

"And I feel like every time you do, it kills something in you. You were such a loving child; I hate what this place made you into," Rica murmured, placing her hand gently on her sister's cheek. She ran her thumb over the old scar that crossed the casteless brand – it was as if the girl's skin itself was rebelling against her lot in life. Rica wished that she could get Katja away from all of this – she deserved better.

"I can't stand the way he treats us," Katja muttered, glaring at the ground in anger, and Rica placed her hands on her sister's shoulders, looking into her green eyes with a matching set of her own. Her voice was cautious as she spoke, wanting to make sure that Katja listened to her.

"Just be careful about showing him. You've been lucky so far; he thinks it's funny when you and Leske get vulgar," Rica warned, and Katja sighed as the older Dwarf pressed her forehead against hers. "Some of the nobles I've met, they'd as soon have your head for speaking your mind," she added. "That's…why I didn't tell you. Beraht's been warning me ever since two of his other girls found patrons at Lord Harrowmont's reception. They've been getting gifts already. Lord Rousten gave Elsye a surface-silk gown and she's not even pregnant. Beraht's getting impatient."

"Isn't the work I do for Beraht enough?" Katja asked, and Rica looked at her sadly.

"You've worked hard to keep him from throwing us out. I can only imagine the horrible things he's made you do," her sister murmured, crossing her arms and looking at the ground, "but…there are a lot of desperate Dwarves in Orzammar. He could buy any one of them to run messages and knock skulls," she sighed, shaking her head.

"I just wish we didn't have to kiss up to that cave tick," Katja grumbled.

"You know the other options. Cleaning middens…begging…going to the surface," Rica listed. "No, unless you find a way to save us all from darkspawn and become a Paragon, we're pretty much on Beraht's leash for life," she said, and Katja scoffed.

"Someone like me could never actually be a Paragon," Katja laughed bitterly, and Rica smiled sadly. _Oh what this place has done to you…_ she thought, taking her sister's hands. They were rough and covered in scarring from the many fights she had been in, but Rica loved them just the same, kissing Katja's callused knuckles and smiling at her.

"It wouldn't be the first time. Gherlon the Blood-Risen was born casteless, you know, before he went to the surface. And he came back and won the throne!" Rica argued, and Katja smiled as well, knowing that Rica was trying to cheer her up. "Many Paragons have humble origins. All that matters is that the Assembly recognizes their achievements. And once they get that vote, they found their own house, and are as noble as if the ancestors themselves had made it so."

"There's my smart sister," Katja chuckled, patting Rica's shoulder.

"You're smart too, Katja – you know how to survive. Even without mother and me," Rica murmured gently.

"But just imagine, founding our own house…" Katja sighed, her eyes distant.

"So, what are you standing around here for? Go do something great! Actually _build_ one of those contraptions you like telling me so much about!" Rica chuckled, hugging her sister. "And stay out of trouble – I'll see you tonight," Rica called after her, returning to their room to fix her hair and put on her makeup; she was meeting with her admirer that afternoon, and he had promised her that he would tell her his name this time. She thought that he looked familiar, but couldn't quite place where she had seen him before.

Katja stopped in the front room of their house, spotting her mother, Kalah, slumped over with an empty bottle of moss-wine in her hand. "Whozzat? Why are you bothering me? Rica?" she groaned as she raised her head, looking at Katja with blurry eyes. She took a swig from the bottle, and, finding it empty, dropped it onto the table in disgust.

"No Mam. It's Katja," Katja said. She sighed when Kalah looked at her questioningly. "Your _daughter?_ " she added, and the older Dwarf scoffed, running a hand through her ragged red hair, her green eyes almost a pale yellow in the faint light as she glared at the girl.

"Don't you talk to me like I'm an idiot! You think I don't know my own kid?" she grumbled, propping her cheek against her arm, as if she could barely keep her head up. Katja saw her fingers shaking, recognizing one of her mother's fits. "What're you doing here, anyway? Rica said you were finally making something useful of yourself," Kalah added scathingly, and Katja crossed her arms.

"You have to stop this, Mam. You're killing yourself," Katja argued softly. No matter how angry she could get at her mother, she couldn't yell at her when she was in this state – it was too pathetic.

"You tell me, just what do I got that's worth living for?" Kalah asked, blinking quickly as her eyes reddened.

"What about me? What about Rica?" Katja asked, keeping her voice low so that she wouldn't set her mother off.

"I know you both hate me. I-I know what I done to you, but…" Kalah choked out, covering her face. "It was for your own good. The world's a cruel place. You…you had to _learn_ that," the woman murmured. "You think you'd be where you are now if I'd let you hide from a few slaps? Everything you are, I made you!" There was no talking to her when she got like this.

"I've got work to do, Mam. Try to dry out by the time I get home," Katja sighed, gingerly reaching out a hand. She stopped before touching her mother's shoulder, looking down at the table and shaking her head.

"Oh, I shouldn't keep doing this to you. I know I shouldn't. It's just so hard…" Kalah groaned, slumping over and looking at Katja through half-closed eyes. "Hey, where's she going? Why's she leaving? Don't leave me!" she cried, struggling to sit up, and Rica came in from the next room, seeing her sister's sad look, and her mother's bleary, staring eyes.

"Never mind, Mother. Why don't you just lie down? That's good," the Dwarf woman crooned, gently pushing their mother's shoulders down and patting her back, hearing soft snores a few moments later.

"Mam seems worse than usual today," Katja whispered, and Rica crossed her arms, shaking her head slightly as she looked at their mother.

"She comes and goes. I think the moss-wine's finally rotted her brains," she scoffed.

"Do you ever remember her being different?" Katja asked, and Rica let out a long sigh.

"When your father was still here. You were a baby, and I remember they used to talk about what it would be like if they could bind a marriage," Rica replied, placing a hand lightly on her collarbone, closing her eyes as she remembered. "Mother used to smile, then, when your father told her about his ideas and drawings. She used to wear a necklace he made her of polished slate – it had a latch on the back that made it open a secret compartment, and she could hold small things in it; coins, maybe, or the shiny rocks she used to collect."

Katja had never seen her mother smile. She had never seen Kalah genuinely happy – the closest thing to a smile she could recall was an awkward, drunk grimace she had received when she had brought her mother a bottle of real lichen ale. "Why did he leave? She never talks about him," Katja asked – she didn't even know her father's name. Only that she had his nose, apparently, and that she was a troublemaker with her mind on the surface, just like him.

"I think he went to the surface," Rica replied. "I was still small, but I remember them fighting about it. He wanted to try his luck among the humans – build one of his inventions where material was more available – but she didn't want to risk it; she didn't want to risk _us_ ," she recalled. "Funny how _that_ turned out," she added with scorn in her tone. "The next day, he moved out, and the wine moved in. But this is too bleak to talk about now. Can't you think of anything else?" Rica wanted to change the subject, and Katja shrugged.

"Alright, I'll get going sis. See you later," Katja said, heading out.

Katja found Leske waiting a little ways outside, leaning against the wall and watching the door. He nodded in greeting as she trotted over. "About sodding time. I was starting to think I'd have to bust in and get an eyeful of that spicy sister of yours. Ga- _row!_ " he grinned, and Katja sighed.

"Haven't I told you never to talk about my sister that way?" she reminded him, and he smirked.

"You're just jealous because you want the majesty of Leske for yourself, you shameless hussy," he teased, and she snorted.

"Leske, _you're_ the reason I like women," she replied, and he clutched at his chest, a pained look on his face.

"Ow, _ouch_ , right in the pride!" he sobbed, falling to the ground and lying there as if dead. "If I _had_ any," he added with a wink, grinning as Katja rolled her eyes and helped him up. "But much as I'd love to keep chatting, we'd better get down to business," he sighed, patting himself off.

"Aww. I was hoping our mission was me making fun of you," Katja pouted.

"No such luck," Leske chuckled. "Boss says we're out for a search-and-discipline. One of his smugglers is holding out on him," he explained. "Name's Oskias. Some surfacer. Beraht got word that he's been selling shipments topside that never make it to Beraht's ears down here; he wants us to find the rotter and see what goods he's holding back."

"He's stealing from Beraht? I like him already," Katja grinned, and Leske sighed – this girl was going to get them both killed one day, the way she talked.

"Well, yours will be a short and tragic relationship. You ready to show him some pain?" Leske asked, and Katja shrugged.

"Any idea where this Oskias guy is?" she asked, and Leske shook his head.

"All Beraht told me is 'find him'. Duster's got some family from the merchant caste. He's probably staying near their quarters," Leske replied, fingering the pommels of his daggers as he nodded towards the stairs out of Dust Town. "Come on salroka – Oskias isn't going to kill himself," he prompted, and Katja grinned crookedly.

"He might, if he knew that Beraht was on to him," she replied, and Leske looked thoughtful as the two walked.

"Hmm…fair point. Still, I've been itching for some action," he said, and Katja chuckled.

"Aw, being gutter-trash got you down?" she teased, and Leske pursed his lips.

"What can I say? No money, no girls, no place to call my own," he listed. "I been writing an epic poem about it," he added, and Katja raised an eyebrow. "It starts, 'Oh, you're really, really cursed to have no caste. You noble dwarves can shove it up your–"

" _Alms!_ A few bits are all I ask for," a beggar called out, drowning out Leske's words, and Katja smirked.

"Some people simply have no appreciation for art," Leske sighed, giving Katja a sidelong glance as she tossed a pair of coppers the old man's way. "…and here comes the Paragon of compassion," he muttered, and Katja elbowed him in the ribs.

"None of those noble sods are going to help us, Leske – we need to watch out for our own," Katja replied as the two continued through Dust Town, heading up to the Commons.

"Whatever you say salroka," he replied.

oooo

The two headed to Tapsters, and Katja greeted the barkeep as Leske glanced around – neither of them knew what Oskias looked like. "No casteless," the barkeep said as he polished the counter, and Katja crossed her arms, leaning lightly against the counter and propping her elbows on it, right where the man had finished cleaning. He scowled at her as she smirked.

"Take a closer look before you say that," she murmured. While Katja despised Beraht, and hated doing jobs for him, she had to admit that cracking skulls in his name came with a few perks.

"Who the dust are…oh," the barkeep trailed off as Leske flashed a brand on his left bicep – Beraht's mark. "My mistake. I didn't realize you're one of _his_ ," the man apologized quickly. Katja had been branded with the same mark, but had wrapped it in a cloth strip to cover it up; she hated the idea of Beraht 'owning' her. "I-I'm not looking for any trouble," he added hurriedly, and Katja shrugged, looking around the tavern.

"Tell me if you know where to find a man named Oskias," she said, and the man nodded.

"Is that what this is about? He's here alright. Right over there," the Dwarf replied, nodding towards a lone Dwarf sitting at a table with two other chairs, as if he were waiting to meet someone there. "Been nursing that same mug half the day. Paid up front, though, good silver. What's he done?" the barkeep couldn't resist asking, and Leske scoffed.

"Made Beraht unhappy. Bad idea for him," he replied, and the barkeep's face went white.

"I'll say. You, uh, you do what you have to," he murmured, polishing the same small circle of counter over and over. "Just…try and keep it neat. I'm still paying for this space," he added quietly, and the pair of casteless nodded absently as they headed towards Oskias.

"Would you like to do the talking salroka? You're the better diplomat," Leske asked, and Katja shrugged.

"Sure thing – let's be civil before we crack his skull," she remarked wryly, and her companion patted her back.

"Just give the word," he murmured, walking around behind Oskias. Katja slid into the seat opposite the Dwarf, folding her legs and leaning back in the chair, looking completely at-ease as her eyes moved over him, taking in every detail. He was a nervous looking character with brown hair and a thin moustache, but Katja took careful note of the axe and shield strapped to his back. She knew Leske could take him if things got ugly, but she really didn't want to make a mess of the place.

"Hey, I was saving that seat!" Oskias said indignantly, jolting with surprise as Leske leaned against the back of his chair, looking down at the nervous merchant.

"That's real thoughtful, Oskias. It's tiring work looking for you," he remarked, and the man's eyes widened.

"H-how do you know my name?" he asked, and Katja knitted her fingers together, placing her hands on the table and looking at him with an easy smile.

"Let's just say we've got a…mutual friend," she replied, and his face turned white as a sheet.

"Oh, no. You're not from Beraht, are you? Because that would be…too much. I don't think I could handle–" he asked, balking at Leske's smirk.

"Calm down. There's no reason we can't keep this civilized," Katja said coolly, and the man placed a hand over his heart.

"You mean you're…not here to kill me?" he asked, and Katja shrugged.

"Of course not. This is just a friendly inspection," she replied.

"Making sure you didn't _accidentally_ pocket any processed lyrium, you know," Leske added in an undertone, lightly tapping the pommel of one of his knives.

"Look, I-I've always been loyal to Beraht. He's been good to my family; I-I know how much I owe him," Oskias stammered out, seeming to shrink into his chair.

"Then why have you been holding out on him?" Katja asked, and Oskias shook his head quickly.

"I haven't. I-I wouldn't!" he squealed as Leske loomed over him.

"You think that's going to convince me?" Katja prodded, and Oskias stared up at Leske before looking back at her.

"I-I'm getting out of here. Y-you two are mad. Beraht knows I'd never betray him. I'll tell him myself–" as he got up to leave, Katja whipped out her crossbow, loading a bolt and aiming it at Oskia's crotch.

" _Sit down_ ," she ordered, and the man sat, his eyes big as saucers as he stared at the crossbow.

"I…I do have some lyrium. It's just ore. I-I made a side deal with one of the mining families," Oskias stammered out, shaking like a leaf. "If it worked out, I was gonna bring Beraht his cut, I swear. I-I'd be crazy not to," he added hurriedly.

" _Suicidal_ , one might say," Leske snorted.

"Who have you been selling to?" Katja asked.

"Surfacers pay good coin for lyrium. Mages up there, they use it for their spells, smiths use it in enchanted weapons…" Oskias explained. "I just took the money and ran. I-I mean, back to Beraht, to share the profits…"

"Bad idea," Katja remarked. "Leske?" she added, glancing at the man, and he cleared his throat, turning to face the main area of the tavern.

"Could everyone who _isn't_ about to die please turn around for a moment? This may be unpleasant. Thank you," he announced, and Oskias screamed, leaping from his seat and running towards the door.

"Y-you can't do this! Help! Call the guardsmen! This is murder!" he cried, skidding to a halt as Katja got between him and the door, her crossbow aimed at his throat.

"You two let me know if you need anything. I'll be in the back," the bartender called, heading into the storeroom.

"It's just a bunch of rocks! You're going to kill me for that!?" Oskias wailed, and Katja shrugged.

"Sorry, salroka. A job's a job," she replied, firing her bolt.

oooo

"So, this is a gift, huh? I've never been to a Proving," Leske remarked, looking at the Proving pass. He and Katja had reported their work to Beraht, and had now been assigned a new task – infiltrate the Provings and drug one of the combatants so that his opponent, Everd, would have an edge; the odds were eight to one against him, and Beraht would rake in the sovereigns if he won.

"Neither have I. What are they like?" Katja asked, ducking as a child threw some garbage at her head. It hit Leske in the shoulder, but he shrugged it off as if it hadn't even happened.

"You know, two sweaty warrior caste men, all oiled up by servant girls and wrapped in shining smith-wrought steel," Leske described. "Hundreds of beautiful women watching from the stands, wanting nothing more than to rub them down after…"

" _Whoa_ , easy there. Don't _stain_ anything," Katja smirked, and Leske rolled his eyes at her.

"Don't tell me you never wanted to sneak in and see one for yourself," he chuckled, and she shrugged.

"I'd prefer to be the one in the ring," she admitted, and he patted her shoulder.

"Hah! I bet you could beat the beards off most of those overstuffed swaggers. Wouldn't that be nice?" he grinned. "And if gold coins fell from my mouth whenever I spoke, that would be grand. And only _slightly_ less likely," he added.

The pair of casteless made their way to the Proving Grounds, presenting their passes at the gates and heading inside, looking around with big eyes. "Hmm…" Katja murmured, spotting a tall, dark-haired human standing by the other side of the room, looking over a carving on the wall with great interest. His armor was beautifully crafted – silverite, she thought – and he carried himself with an air of quiet dignity that befitted nobility.

"Stone's embrace! That's one of them. One of the Grey Wardens!" Leske gasped, grabbing her arm and startling the girl. He grinned at her, nodding towards the human. "I dare you to go over and talk to him. Say, 'Welcome to Orzammar, Warden ser. May I drink your bath water?'," he added, and Katja scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Leske you nug-licker," she laughed, shoving him off her arm. "Alright, just stay here and try not to soil yourself," she added, walking over to the Grey Warden. She was suddenly nervous, and more than a little self-conscious. Would he even look at a brand like her? Would he have her arrested for harassing him?

The man glanced over as he heard Katja approach, looking over the red-haired Dwarf with interest, his eyes lingering on the knife strapped to her thigh, and the crossbow on her back. "Stone-met and blessings on your house," he bowed, crossing his arms over his chest, and Katja stared at him with wide eyes, hoping that her mouth wasn't hanging open. "That was the proper greeting for an outsider last time I visited Orzammar. Has it changed? Or is there a reason you're looking at me so strangely?" he asked, and Katja cleared her throat, bobbing her head respectfully.

"It was just…nicer than I expected," she admitted.

"Do they say the Grey Wardens are disrespectful, then?" the man asked, and Katja shook her head quickly.

"Ah! No, not at all!" she stammered out, her face turning red. "I…I just…don't exactly _have_ a house…" she added, glancing down.

"My apologies. The intricacies of Dwarven society are still foreign to me. I meant no offense," he apologized gently, and Katja stared at him again – no one had ever apologized to her. "My name is Duncan. I'd say, 'Of the Grey Wardens', but I suspect you already know that. Pleased to meet you," he added, introducing himself.

"I'm Katja of…uh…well, nobody," Katja replied awkwardly, and Duncan's eyes moved over her face, spotting the brand on her cheek, crossed over by the long scar.

"Ah…of course. That's what the face-brand means, then. I remember that now," Duncan recalled, seeing her face fall as she looked down.

"I…guess you want me to leave now?" she asked, and he smiled sympathetically at her.

"I never turn down the chance to meet someone new," Duncan replied. "When we visit Orzammar, we tend to remain in the Diamond Quarter. You forget how much of the city you miss," he added.

"Is it true you're here looking for recruits?" Katja asked curiously, her eyes shining. _What I wouldn't give to become a Grey Warden,_ she thought.

"The Wardens are always looking for those who have the courage to spend their lives in battle against the darkspawn," Duncan replied. "It's rare we find those with both the skill and the will. The best Wardens are ruthless to their enemies, compassionate to their friends, and inspiring to their troops. It's a lot to look for, but I hope to find it here," he said, looking around the room. "And I hope you also may find what you are looking for," he added, nodding in farewell.

oooo

Katja came-to in a dark room, and she let out a soft groan, clutching her throbbing head. She could hardly remember what had happened, and she slowly sat up, trying to piece through the bits of memory as she massaged her temples. The warrior that Beraht was betting on – Everd – had gotten drunk before his match, and had passed out. Leske had convinced Katja to fight in his stead, wearing the man's heavy armor and helmet to conceal her identity.

Somehow, before the first match, Leske had accidently mixed her drink with her opponent's, and she had ended up drinking what she guessed was a powerful hallucinogen – why else would giant purple nugs be attacking the spectators? It had worn off by the end of the round, however, and Katja had taken down Mainar, as well as the two warriors who had followed.

As the Shaper was announcing her the victor, however, the _real_ Everd had come running out of the waiting rooms, still falling over drunk, and asking if he had missed his match. Katja had been forced to take off her helmet and reveal her identity – the crowd had erupted in horror and outrage as they saw the casteless woman standing in the middle of the Proving Grounds. Katja had taken out as many guards as she could, but had gotten overwhelmed – the next thing she knew, she was waking up here; wherever 'here' was.

"Are you awake yet? Psst! Can you hear me?" Leske's voice was coming from somewhere to the right, and Katja found herself in a barred cell. She staggered over to the bars, spotting Leske in the next cell over. "How hard did they sodding _hit_ you, anyway? Did you have to put up such a fight?" he asked, and Katja scoffed.

"I just hope I took some of them down with me!" she growled, and Leske chuckled, shaking his head.

"Oh, you did," he assured her, "and don't think they didn't show _me_ their appreciation," he added. "One of the guards recognized me and figured we must be working together. They burned _three_ candles to the stump interrogating me about who put us up to this. I think they knew, you know, about Beraht," he whispered, and Katja sighed, gripping the bars and looking around the room.

"What's the sentence for ridiculing the entire Warrior Caste?" she asked, and Leske shrugged.

"Public whipping. Loss of your left hand for stealing the armor. Loss of your _right_ hand for befouling a smith's work…" he listed, counting off the offenses on his fingers. "Public flaying for impersonating a higher caste, and if _that_ doesn't kill you, they'll put you to death for polluting the Proving," he continued, and Katja let out a groan. "That Grey Warden suggested exile, but it didn't seem like anyone was listening."

"Mmph," Katja sighed, banging her head against the bars and looking at him sadly.

"Is there any way out?" she asked, and he shrugged.

"No. I checked, and the cell is built straight into the cave wall. That door's the only way out and they confiscated my lock picks," he replied, crossing his arms and nodding towards her cell. "What's it look like on your side? You see any way out?" he asked, and Katja looked around the back of the prison cell.

"Uh…nothing but an alarming amount of bloodstains. This…isn't a normal prison cell, is it?" she concluded, turning around as she heard the door opening on the other side of the room. A familiar, dark-haired Dwarf woman with stern features walked in, crossing her arms and looking between the two prisoners.

"Good. You're awake. Beraht will be glad to hear that," she remarked, and Katja looked at her with surprise.

"Jarvia? What are you doing here?" she asked, and Jarvia snorted, glowering at her.

"You caused a _lot_ of trouble today. Beraht lost a hundred sovereigns for Lord Vollney," Jarvia said, her brow furrowed in a scowl. "The entire Proving was declared invalid, and the Assembly already called for an investigation. You can't _imagine_ the state Beraht was in when he told me to get you," she added, and Katja gripped the bars to her cell.

"Let me talk to Beraht. I can explain what happened," she asked, and Jarvia snorted.

"All he needs to know is that you exposed him before the entire warrior caste," the woman replied. "Now they're asking questions, and as long as you have tongues to answer them, you're a threat," she added, glaring at the two. "Enjoy your last night together. Sorry we had to put you in separate cells, or I'd suggest you have a last tumble," she added, and Leske and Katja looked at one another in panic as she turned to go. "Beraht'll be by soon to make sure you maintain your silence." The door slammed shut behind Jarvia as she left, and a guard remained in the room to keep an eye on the two prisoners.

 _Plan, plan, think of a plan…_ Katja thought as she looked around the room. _If I don't get out of here and handle Beraht, Rica's crawler-bait._ Katja thought of something, letting out a loud moan and staggering about her cell, leaning heavily against the bars. The guard looked at her strangely, making a face as he walked over. "Hey! Leave off with your noise. You're giving me a headache," he complained, and Leske glanced over, watching Katja.

"But I think I'm sick. Oooh, I'm getting dizzy…" she groaned, clutching her head.

"When that happened to my sister, healer said it was the plague," Leske chimed in quickly, catching on. "Said if it wasn't treated right away, everyone who'd seen her would _die_ ," he added, and the guard's face went white.

"D-die? I don't want to die," he gasped, staring at Katja.

"Aren't you going to help her?" Leske prompted.

"I-I'll come in there and take a look," the guard agreed, opening the cell. "Now, hold still while I tie your hands behind your back…" he added, balking as Katja smirked. She kneed him in the groin, clasping her hands together and bashing him over the head as he was doubled over in pain, laying him out. She knelt, taking the key-ring from his belt and unlocking Leske's cell.

"Oh, Stone… What do we do now? There's nowhere in Orzammar that Beraht won't find us," Leske groaned, and Katja ran a hand over her forehead as they found their gear, taking in a calming breath as she thought of a plan.

"Do you think we can get to the mines? One of the tunnels here leads to Dust Town – we can sneak out, I'll grab Rica, and we can wait for things to settle down," Katja suggested, and Leske stared at her in disbelief.

"And _then_ what? Live in the _Deep Roads?_ " he asked incredulously.

"No – we escape to the surface," Katja replied. Leske made a displeased sound in his throat, but didn't argue any further – he couldn't think of an alternative at the moment. The two strapped on their weapons and found some spare armor lying about, moving quickly and cautiously through the halls as they planned their escape.

"If we want to get away with this, we can't leave one man alive to tell Beraht what we've done," Leske murmured, and Katja scoffed.

"Why leave Beraht alive at all? One less _leech_ in the world," she muttered, loading a bolt into her crossbow and whirling around a corner, firing off a shot and sticking a carta member in the throat, loading another bolt and waiting for the next patrol to come around.

The pair of Dwarves fought through the carta's hideout, slowing as they came to an open hall, hearing Beraht's voice up ahead. Katja leaned against the doorframe, keeping out of sigh as she listened in; Beraht was talking to a pair of his personal bodyguards.

"I'm cutting the whore free," Beraht was saying. "If that freak of a sister of hers can't stay in her place, I don't need precious Rica, either."

"Rica? That the one you got all done up in lace?" one of the guards said, his eyes flashing with lust as he thought of the woman. "I been wanting to get my hands on that."

"Heh, I know what you mean…" the other guard added, grinning eagerly at Beraht.

The carta boss ran a hand through his beard, a cruel grin on his face. "She's yours if you want her, boys. And let me tell you…it tastes as good as it looks," he chuckled, and his guards glanced at one another with excitement in their eyes. Katja gritted her teeth, walking slowly into the room as she loaded her crossbow. Beraht heard the click of a bolt being loaded and glanced up, spotting Katja and Leske approaching. "What in sod-all is _that_ doing out of its cage?" Beraht asked, looking at the red-haired casteless with disgust.

"Time to end you, Beraht," Katja growled, and the Dwarf drew the two-handed axe from his back, his guards copying the motion.

"Come on boys, the little whore needs to learn her place," he grunted, letting out a yell and charging. Katja leapt back and whipped a throwing-knife from her belt, throwing it at Beraht's leg and firing her bolt at one of the thug's throats, watching the man fall as he choked on his own blood. Leske charged the other guard with his pair of blades, leaving Beraht to Katja – he knew that this fight was personal.

Katja barely caught the haft of Beraht's axe on her crossbow, dropping it as the weapon was wrenched from her grip, and she took a few quick steps back, drawing her dagger and another throwing knife. She was faster than Beraht – while he had thugs to do his dirty work, his muscles had been wasting away; Katja grinned as she charged, knowing that he would never catch her.

The casteless girl leapt into the air as Beraht swung at her legs, and she smirked as her longer blade whipped across the carta boss's throat, cutting his head clean off. Beraht's eyes stared up at her in shock for a few seconds before rolling back, the Dwarf's severed head lying in a pool of blood. Leske cut down the remaining thug a moment later, wiping off his blades and beaming at Katja as she panted for breath, shuddering with excitement as adrenalin rushed through her veins.

"Did you see him there, all, 'When we're done with you…' And you just charged in and sodding _slaughtered_ him!" Leske exclaimed, waving his hands about excitedly. "You have to be the luckiest duster in Orzammar. Beraht's dead and we're standing here! Hail to the sodding _king!_ " he laughed, patting her on the shoulder as she sheathed her knife.

"As long as he never made it to Rica," Katja breathed, letting out a long sigh as she calmed down.

"Well, he was sure _talking_ like she's still alive," Leske said hopefully. "But I won't turn down the chance to go take another peek," he added, ignoring her scathing look. "Hey, could you tell Rica _I_ killed him?" he asked suddenly. "I mean, it doesn't do _you_ any good if she thinks you're most virile warrior in all the Stone…"

"Do you _really_ want to say that when I'm holding a weapon?" Katja asked, and Leske chuckled, folding his arms behind his head.

"An excellent point," he replied. "Now let's go find somewhere to hide," he added.

oooo

"Sod!" Katja swore under her breath as she and Leske ran, pelting through Dust Town and knocking people out of there way. "Were they sodding _waiting_ for us!?" she gasped, grabbing Leske's arm as he stumbled over a crippled beggar.

"I don't know!" he retorted, staring about in panic. The two had returned to the Brosca's place, only to be attacked by members of the carta. They had barely gotten out of the neighborhood alive, and were running pell-mell through the tight streets and alleyways of Dust Town, heading for the abandoned tunnels.

"Come on Leske! Just a little farther!" Katja cried, putting on a burst of speed as she spotted the dark tunnels up ahead.

"I'm right behind you!" Leske called.

Darkness enveloped the Dwarf woman, and she ran until she couldn't hear their pursuers any more, putting her hands on her knees as she gasped for breath. "Oh, thank the bloody Stone we made it…" she panted, squinting in the darkness, looking for her friend. "…Leske?"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Next time: We return to the main plot with Nature of the Beast!


	44. Chapter 44: Nature of the Beast

Chapter 44

Nature of the Beast

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[Drakonis – early spring]

"Well, here we are, Elf. The homeland of your people," Oghren grunted as we walked through the trees, speaking to Zevran. It was mid-Drakonis, and the weather had finally cleared up enough for us to enter the Brecilian, and search for a Dalish clan. Neria was in the lead, scouting out a trail with Olan as the mabari searched for a clan's scent, and the rest of us followed behind at a more relaxed pace, although our weapons were at the ready for any sign of danger.

"I'm from _Antiva_ , Oghren. I don't go into forests as a rule," Zevran replied, and Oghren snorted, glancing up at him.

"I thought you Elves were all from the woods, with the flowers and the wind and what not," Oghren said, and I laughed, grinning at the puzzled look on his face. Neria glanced back at the sound, making a face as she heard the pair chatting – we were standing towards the front of the group, and I smirked at her look of chagrin.

"The Dalish, perhaps. Most of us were born with a roof over our head," Zevran said, and Oghren crossed his arms, looking around at the lush woodlands.

"Then why the _sod_ do we keep hearing about Elves frolicking in the thicket and nug-spew like that?" Oghren asked, and Neria glanced back at the two.

"Could it be that Orzammar's archives aren't the most accurate authority on Elves?" she suggested, and the Dwarf shrugged.

"Hmph. Orzammar's archives are hardly an authority on Orzammar's archives," he grunted in reply.

" _I'm_ just cheered by the thought that you might have picked up a book at some point," Zevran chimed in, and Oghren grinned.

"It had pictures. _Dirty_ ones," the Dwarf added with a chuckle.

"Well, naturally," Zevran replied.

Olan let out three short barks as we came to a clearing in the trees, and I raised an eyebrow as his tail wagged, and be jumped in an excited circle. "Another campsite?" I asked Neria, who gazed about the trees, scanning the roots and nodding slightly.

"Yes. We'll catch up to them in a day or so," she replied. "But in the meantime, we should set up camp here – there are traces of the Keeper's magic still about, so we should be safe from most of the forest's dangers for the night," she added, and I closed my eyes, sensing the lingering remnants of a powerful ward. "This is strange, though," she murmured mostly to herself, chewing on her lower lip anxiously as she glanced around through the trees, as if searching for something. "They're moving too slowly – there hasn't been a statue of Fen'Harel for miles…"

"I wonder why the Keeper would use such a strong ward," Wynne remarked, sensing the remnants of the wards as well. Neria shrugged as her thoughts were interrupted, not knowing the answer, and we set about unloading the wagon.

"So how do the Dalish bring their land-ships through here? Do the trees just…move out of there way?" Alistair asked the Elf, and she smirked, patting Dancia's shoulder as she unhitched the horse from the cart.

"Maybe," she winked, and Alistair made a face at her answer, glancing at me.

"What? _I_ don't know," I grinned, helping him unload our things and set up our tent.

oooo

I couldn't get to sleep that night – something in the air was making my skin prickle, and the hairs on my arms stand up. I slowly sat up in bed, careful not to wake Alistair, and I crept out of the tent, narrowing my eyes in the faint light of the campfire. I glanced at Jowan, who was keeping watch with Leliana, and I nodded at the two in greeting.

"You sensed it too, right?" Jowan remarked as I joined him by the edge of camp, indicating the forest with a wave of his hand. I crossed my arms, nodding slightly as I shuffled my bare feet through the cool spring grass.

"I'm not sure what it is, exactly," I murmured, "but…I've heard stories that the Veil is thin in the Brecilian – that these woods are haunted by all sorts of spirits and strange beasts," I added, and Jowan made a face at me.

"Thanks. My watch is almost over, and I won't be able to get a wink of sleep now," he muttered sourly, and I smirked, not unduly worried – if we were facing undead or spirits, my sword would give us fair warning.

"Sorry," I chuckled. "I have a sleeping draught Zevran made for me, if you want some," I offered, and the mage raised an eyebrow.

"You take a sleeping draught?" Jowan asked, and I shrugged.

"Only when I have…really intense nightmares," I admitted. "Thankfully, those aren't too often," I sighed, looking out towards the misty woodlands. I jumped as I heard a low growl behind me, whirling around and letting out a sigh of relief – it was just Olan. My relief turned to tension as the mabari ran over, standing protectively in front of Jowan and me, his shoulders stiff and his fur bristling as he growled at something in the woods.

"What is it Olan?" Jowan whispered. Leliana had drawn her bow, glancing at us quickly before turning her eyes to the opposite side of camp, not wanting to leave it unguarded, and Jowan raised his staff, ready to cast a spell. I jumped as Neria hurriedly came out of her tent, her bow already strung as her eyes flashed towards the darkness, raising an arrow towards the woods. I took a step back, grabbing an apple-sized stone and holding it aloft, ready to throw.

The five of us stood in tense silence for what felt like hours. After a while, Olan sniffed intently at the air and let out a low huff, his fur relaxing as he sensed the danger pass. It hadn't been darkspawn – I would have sensed them before Olan had growled – but thoughts of strange, unknown creatures kept creeping into my head; besides the undead and abominations, _creatures_ possessed by spirits didn't usually set my sword humming.

I let out a soft breath, glancing at Jowan and Leliana as they looked about, still tense, and I glanced at Neria oddly as she knelt in front of Olan, listening as he made soft grunts and whines. "How did you know there was something near camp?" I asked her as she stood, unstringing her bow and closing the top of her quiver. She looked at me quietly for a few moments, her blue eyes shining silver for a moment as they reflected the light of the campfire.

"Good hearing, and good danger-sense," was her curt reply. She seemed anxious about something, but looked like she didn't want to be pestered about it. I watched her return to the tent she shared with Zevran, letting out a soft sigh as I headed back to bed, hoping that nothing would attack us in the night.

I slipped back into our tent, finding Alistair sitting up with a hand on his sword, his shoulders relaxing as I entered. "Was there something out there?" he asked softly, and I shrugged, sitting down as he put away the blade.

"I don't know – Olan was growling, but none of us actually saw anything," I admitted, lying down with a small grunt, frowning and pulling a stick out from under my bedroll.

"Mmm…somehow that's more unsettling than if we were outright attacked – at least then, we'd know what it _was_ ," he muttered, and I nodded as he lay down beside me.

"True," I murmured, resting my head on his arm. "The sooner we find the Dalish, the better," I added, and he let out a soft breath as he pulled the blankets over us.

"Right. And after that, the Landsmeet," Alistair groaned, and I chuckled, wrapping my arms around his neck and nuzzling his cheek.

"Everything will be _fine_ Alistair," I assured him, and he sighed, pressing his forehead against mine.

"I…guess I shouldn't worry about it – it's out of my control, anyway," he relented, kissing me gently. I smiled reassuringly, poking his nose with mine as we drifted off to sleep.

oooo

We headed deeper into the thick woodlands the next morning, and I glanced behind me as I heard Sten mutter something under his breath. "This is like my home in Seheron. But the fiends here are only monsters," he murmured, and I raised an eyebrow at his words.

"What's that about fiends?" I asked, falling into step beside the Qunari, and he glanced at me as we walked.

"Ours wear the faces of men," he replied, and I pursed my lips.

" _That's_ cryptic," I remarked.

"Darkspawn, abominations, plagues, and storms: Men are far more dangerous than these," Sten explained. "One moment of betrayal can bring more ruin than an earthquake. You know this," he added, and I nodded slowly, my eyes narrowing as I thought of Loghain.

"So they're traitors?" I asked, and Sten nodded slightly.

"They are Tal-Vashoth. They say they are 'grey ones'. True, in the knowledge of themselves. They are gaping holes where men used to be. Nothing can fill them," he said softly, and I looked up at him curiously.

"What do they want?" I wondered, and Sten looked at me levelly.

"I don't know," he admitted. "There was a village in the mountains of Seheron. Farmers. They grew cinnamon and nutmeg trees in perfectly ordered rows. There would always be one person waiting. A foreman, a harvester, rank didn't matter," he began, and I looked up at him with big eyes as he spoke. "Often, they would say nothing. Simply watch as we worked to examine the empty house, a new one each time, that had once been the home of a colleague, a friend. We always made a point of searching. Now and then, a body would turn up in a river, eaten by rain and crows. More often, we found nothing. Even in the worst parts of the jungle, the villagers would send someone with us. To see the tiniest piece of bone or cloth. Anything contained the possibility of their lost friend."

"Why do the Tal-Vashoth fight you?" I asked softly. Sten looked out towards the trees in silence for a few moments.

"Isn't it the nature of a wound to bleed?" he countered. "I have no more answers than you. Why do we fight the darkspawn? Why do the darkspawn fight us?"

"Don't the Tal-Vashoth _give_ reasons?" I questioned, and he shrugged.

"Now and then," he admitted. "Do the reasons matter? It makes little difference to those they fight. Tell me, then: Why do you fight?"

"Because I have to," I replied.

"Yes. There is no other reason. The Tal-Vashoth wish us dead. And we wish to go on living. The point of our war is war." With those sobering words, Sten fell silent, and spoke no more as his eyes grew distant. I contemplated his words in the quietness of the forest, listening to the wind as it rustled through the trees.

oooo

It was sunset, and Neria said that we should try to get a few more miles behind us before setting up camp. She had fallen back with the rest of the group to take up rear-guard, letting Olan lead the way, with Alistair just behind him. We had given up trying to drive the wagon through the woodlands; instead, Leliana was leading Dancia over the smoothest ground, and Sten kept behind the cart in case the wheels got stuck in the large tree roots that covered the area.

I glanced over my shoulder, looking at Katja – she had been rather quiet the last few days, staring at everything in wonderment; she said that she had never seen trees so big that they covered the sky. I bumped into Alistair as he stopped short, stepping back and apologizing softly, glancing over his shoulder and feeling my eyes widen in surprise. Three Elves stood ahead of us, blocking our path and holding their bows at the ready. The lead Elf – a fair-haired woman with swirling tattoos over her brow that looked like antlers – held up a hand as she halted us, her eyes narrowed suspiciously at our strange group.

"Hold, outsider. You may be of my kind, but you are not Dalish. Why are you here?" she asked me, her tone commanding.

"Let me handle this," Neria murmured, stepping through our group and smiling at the Elf, bobbing her head in greeting. "Aneth Ara, Mithra," Neria said, and the Dalish hunter's eyes widened with recognition.

"Neria Mahariel?" Mithra asked. "Andaran atish'an, my friend. You have come a long way. I give you the welcome of our clan," she added, bobbing her head as well. _Well she changed her tune quickly,_ I thought wryly, trying not to snort. Audibly. "The Sabrae clan is off to the north, the last I heard. What brings you so far, friend?" Mithra added.

Neria shrugged slightly, nodding to me. "My friends here have business with Keeper Zathrian," she explained, and Mithra crossed her arms, looking at me with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity, glancing at the others in our company briefly before returning her gaze to me.

"And what business is that?" she asked.

"I am a Grey Warden," I explained, and she pursed her lips – she looked as if she weren't sure whether or not to believe me.

"That…is not a lie that many would attempt," she remarked. "I will bring you to the Keeper, then, and _he_ can decide if your business is worthwhile," the woman said, motioning for us to follow her. "Neria, please ask your companions to remain close; we are unused to outsiders," Mithra added.

She led our group through the dense woodland, the other two Elves keeping to our flanks, as if they were herding us. I watched the Elves carefully, my eyes shining with excitement at the thought of finally meeting an entire Dalish clan. "The excitement will wear off soon enough, my friend," Zevran remarked quietly, and I glanced at him, slightly puzzled by his words. He didn't elaborate further, but I noticed how he seemed to subtly brace himself the closer we got to the camp.

Mithra led us into a large campsite among the trees; odd, wheeled vehicles with sails on them sat near large bonfires, reminding me of the sailing ships back at the Denerim docks. Aravels, I remembered – land-ships. Dalish Elves looked at our group curiously as we passed by, and I noticed the slightly guarded expressions of some of the older Elves, who quietly shepherded their children out of our sight. Some younger Elves practicing archery paused in their training, staring at us with wide eyes, and I tried not to laugh at their startled expressions as they spotted Dancia.

We were brought to an ornate aravel, where a tall, bald Elf stood, speaking to a brown-haired girl wearing decorative robes and furs. "Hmm. I see we have guests," the man remarked, looking our group over carefully, his expression guarded. He had high, proud cheekbones, and an elaborate tattoo across his forehead that reminded me of a curling tree. Olan sniffed the air curiously, looking at the man and growling low in his throat, his shoulders tense and his ears flattening against his skull.

"Hush Olan," I whispered, and the dog let out a soft whine, looking up at me with anxious eyes. _Olan's never been this hostile without reason. Something's wrong here_ , I thought. I could sense it as well; there was a strange feeling coming from the bald Elf…though it was like nothing I had ever felt before. _There is old magic at work here…and I'm not sure if that's good or bad…_

"And a hound amongst them. As if we haven't had enough problems with such creatures," the bald Elf scoffed, shaking his head slightly and looking at Olan with distaste. "Who are these strangers, Mithra? I have precious little patience and less time to spend on outsiders today," the man added, and the woman who had brought us, Mithra, bowed her head slightly.

"This one claims to be a Grey Warden and wishes to speak with the clan. She comes with one from the Sabrae clan, but I thought it best to leave the decision to you," Mithra explained quickly, and the man nodded, crossing his arms and looking back at us, his eyes lingering on Neria, who nodded politely in greeting.

"That was wise of you. Ma serannas, Mithra, you may return to your post," he said, dismissing the woman.

"Ma nuvenin, Keeper," Mithra replied, nodding and heading off, motioning for the other two Elves to follow her as well.

"Now, allow me to introduce myself. I am Zathrian, the Keeper of this clan, its guide and preserver of our ancient lore. And you are?" Zathrian said, greeting us, and I bowed my head politely to him.

"I am Adeline Tabris. A pleasure, Keeper Zathrian," I introduced myself, glancing at my companions to do the same.

"Tabris…?" the Keeper remarked, after the others had introduced themselves, looking at me thoughtfully before glancing at Neria. "And you are Narida and Keeper Garethat's daughter, yes?" he added.

"Yes, Keeper Zathrian," she replied, and he nodded slightly.

"Your mother's surname was Tabris as well," he remarked, and Neria and I looked at him with surprise.

"Wait…Narida was the name?" I asked, and Neria nodded. "One of my aunts was called Narida," I recalled – I remembered Dad telling me that one of his older sisters had run off to find the Dalish before she was married, and was never seen again. _I guess she found them,_ I thought, smiling at Neria as her eyes shone.

"Then we really _are_ blood," she chuckled, grinning at me. "No wonder I fit right in with your family," she added, glancing back at Zathrian.

"Your parents were both good people – I can see their spirits reflected in your eyes," the Keeper said gently, and Neria gave him a small, sad smile.

"Ma serannas," Neria bowed her head. Zathrian's gaze returned to me, and he let out a soft breath, crossing his arms.

"If you came to bring news of the Blight in the south, Grey Wardens, it is not needed; I had already sensed its corruption. I would have taken the clan north by now, had we the ability to move. Sadly, as you can see, we do not," Zathrian sighed, and I glanced towards the area he had indicated – it looked like the Dalish had set up a sick-bay, and a few healers were trying to treat Elves who were lying on cots and bedrolls, unconscious and feverish.

"Yes, it seems like you have had your own troubles. What are the odds?" Alistair muttered under his breath – he had gotten used to running into trouble everywhere we went, it seemed.

"I imagine you are here regarding the treaty we signed centuries ago. Unfortunately, we may not be able to live up to the promise we made," the Keeper said apologetically. "This will require some…explanation. Please follow me," he continued, motioning for us to walk with him as he brought us to the sick area. Wounded Elves lay on cots and blankets, and Wynne murmured something under her breath that sounded like 'never seen something like this'.

"Is this some sort of plague?" Jowan asked as we stopped, and Zathrian crossed his arms, looking sadly at a delirious man who was gasping for breath, his eyes distant as he stammered out something about wolves and spirits. Neria was staring about in horror, her shoulders stiff as she saw hunters lying prone and feverish, covered in cold sweat.

"The clan came to the Brecilian Forest one month ago, as is our custom when we enter this part of Ferelden," Zathrian began, keeping his voice low so that he wouldn't disturb the healers. "We are always wary of the dangers in the forest, but we did not expect the werewolves would be lying in wait for us. They…ambushed us, and though we drove the beasts back, much damage was done. Many of our warriors lie dying as we speak," he murmured, indicating the wounded Elves. "Even with all our magic and healing skill, we will eventually be forced to slay our brethren to prevent them from becoming beasts. The Blight's evil must be stopped, but we are in no position to uphold our obligations. I am truly sorry," Zathrian apologized, and I stared at him with wide eyes.

"Wait, _werewolves?_ There are actual _werewolves_ in the woods?" I asked incredulously, and Zathrian sighed, nodding.

"There was a time in Ferelden's history when werebeasts roamed the lands in great numbers. Spirits possessed animals and turned them into horrific monsters. The humans warred against and destroyed these creatures – no doubt their tales of those days grow ever more inaccurate," Zathrian explained, running a hand over his forehead, looking strained.

"Flemeth tells tales of such a time. Packs of possessed wolves, akin to abominations, roaming the land. It was a terrible age now long past," Morrigan added, and I bit my lip.

"During the…Black Age, yes? I've read about the lycanthropic plagues…but that was hundreds of years ago," Jowan murmured, crossing his arms and looking back at the sick Elves. His eyes were thoughtful, and he watched with interest as a Dalish woman ground herbs nearby, pouring the powder into a small cup of water and holding it to a sick Elf's lips.

"The werebeasts are not all gone from this land, and the ones that stalk the Brecilian Forest are proof of this," Zathrian sighed. I watched Olan trot over to one of the feverish Elves, sniffing at the woman's hand and letting out a low growl in his throat, backing away slightly and looking tense.

"Why did these beasts attack you?" Leliana asked, and Zathrian shrugged weakly.

"They are savage and unrelenting; they need no reason to attack anyone," the Elf replied. "What is curious, however, is the ambush. We expect werewolves to be no more cunning than a rabid wolf. The ambush suggests a level of intelligence we've never seen before," Zathrian added.

"Maybe they aren't as unintelligent as you think," Neria remarked softly, and Zathrian almost scoffed at her words.

"I doubt that. The very curse that is in their blood fills them with an unreasoning rage that precludes any true thought. No, they are being commanded by…something," he murmured the last part, and I got the sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly what this 'something' was – there was definitely more to this story than the Keeper was telling us; of that I was certain.

"Hmm…is there no way to help your people?" Wynne asked as she looked over a sick hunter, maybe trying to figure out what was wrong with him.

"The affliction is a curse that runs rampant in their blood, bringing great agony and then ultimately either death or a transformation into something monstrous," Zathrian replied. "The only thing that could help them must come from the source of the curse itself, and that…that would be no trivial task to retrieve," Zathrian explained, looking over our group slowly, his eyes lingering on each of us.

"I happen to be quite good at non-trivial tasks," I replied, and Zathrian nodded slightly, seeing the determined look in my eyes.

"Within the Brecilian Forest dwells a great wolf – we call him Witherfang. It was within _him_ that the curse originated, and through his blood that it has been spread," he explained. "If he is killed and his heart brought to me, perhaps I could destroy the curse…but this task has proven too dangerous for us. I sent some hunters into the forest a week ago, but they have not returned. I cannot risk any more of my clan," Zathrian continued, and I pursed my lips, mulling over his words. _Ah, so use the outsiders as bait, then,_ I thought sourly, keeping my gaze on the sick hunters so Zathrian didn't see the look of scorn in my eyes.

"You said you could 'perhaps' destroy the curse? You're not certain?" Neria asked, and the Keeper shook his head, his eyes distant.

"There is no guarantee that this will work as I suspect…but it's the only hope we have left," he replied, and I nodded.

"Alright, I'll find this Witherfang for you," I said, and Zathrian looked at me with concern.

"I must warn you that more than werewolves lurk in the Brecilian Forest. It has a history full of carnage and murder, you see. Where there is so much death, the Veil separating the spirit realm from our own becomes thin, allowing spirits to possess things living or dead," Zathrian cautioned us. "But if you can indeed help…then I wish you luck. It is growing dark, though, and I would not ask you to venture into the forest at night; even the most experienced of hunters tread warily in the darkened woods. Allow me to invite you to stay in our camp for the eve," Zathrian added, and I bowed my head respectfully.

"Ma serannas, Keeper," I thanked him, and our group set up camp near one of the aravels by the fringes of the main camp. Olan looked on edge, and I knelt next to the dog, holding out my hand and letting him sniff me before petting him; I didn't want to startle him and get bitten. "What's wrong, Olan?" I asked softly, and the dog whined quietly, resting his head on my lap as I sat down.

"There is something strange in this forest," Morrigan remarked as she sat as well, and I nodded, biting my lip.

"I know. I can…sense it," I murmured, glancing around warily. Jowan seemed a bit tense, sensing whatever it was as well, and I watched as he closed his eyes, trying to meditate. _I wonder if he's trying to investigate through the Fade,_ I mused.

oOo

"Ah, it's been a while since I've seen a camp like this," Neria sighed as she walked with Katja, looking around at the aravels.

"You sound homesick salroka," the Dwarf teased, and Neria rolled her eyes.

"I have a better home now than I ever did, falon – home is where your loved ones are," the Elf replied, and Katja smiled.

"Huh. That's the wisest thing I've ever heard you say," she remarked, and Neria chuckled.

"Yes, well, save those pearls – they're few and far between," Neria admitted. As they walked through the sunset camp, Katja couldn't help but notice the strange looks some of the older Elves were giving Neria. When she asked why that was, the Elf shrugged.

"Probably because I don't wear the Vallaslin on my face," she explained, and Katja cocked her head.

"Are those like the casteless brands?" Katja wondered, and Neria pursed her lips.

"Mmm…in a way, I suppose, in that it identifies you," she replied. "When a Dalish hunter's apprentice has completed their rite of passage, or a craftsman's apprentice has produced a craft proving mastery of their skill, they are marked with a tattoo called Vallaslin – blood writing. It is a representation of their chosen god," Neria described, and Katja placed a hand on her chin. She noticed that Neria had stopped them by a large stone statue of a wolf, covered in moss and crawling vines.

"So why don't you have this blood writing?" Katja asked, watching as Neria began tearing the vines and moss from the statue, clearing away the dust and sitting down on her knees before it, placing her hands on her thighs as she looked up at the wolf.

"Oh, no, I have it; just not on my face," Neria chuckled. She smiled slightly at Katja's look of confusion. "There are no representations of blood writing for my god; his image is branded on my back," she explained. "I am the sole worshipper of the Dread Wolf, Fen'Harel – He Who Hunts Alone – the Lord of Tricksters," Neria whispered reverently, bowing her head all the way to the ground as she faced the wolf statue.

Katja remained silent until Neria had finished praying, indicating the statue. "But…how can you be the sole worshipper if they have a statue like this?" she wondered, and Neria patted the statue gently as she stood.

"Oh, the other Dalish respect him, but it's mostly out of fear – they call him an evil god," she explained as they walked back through the camp. Those that had seen Neria bowing before the statue began whispering, and Katja could hear snatches of 'Fen'Asha' and 'Fen'len' as they passed by. "I believe that I am the only one who reveres him properly."

"But…why do you worship him?" Katja asked. Neria cocked her head, looking thoughtful for a few moments.

"I…like to think that he saved me," the Elf replied cryptically, but said no more. The two came to an aravel with stacks of raw materials in barrels nearby, and Katja cocked her head curiously as she heard the sound of hammering.

"You have…smiths?" the Dwarf asked in puzzlement, and Neria shrugged.

"Of a sort – they're…different than what you're probably thinking," the Elf replied, motioning for Katja to follow her.

An older Elf craftsman was inspecting the work of his apprentice, his eyes moving carefully over the work. The arched, tree-like tattoos on his brow wrinkled as he frowned, and he pursed his lips as he turned the bow over. "What did you do? You've warped the wood completely. Did you leave it out in the rain?" the craftsman asked, and his apprentice shook his head quickly.

"No, Master Varathorn, I…I think I just used too much heat…" the younger man admitted, and Varathorn sighed, shaking his head.

"You're not smelting ore like a durgen'len! This is living wood! It requires patience and delicate hands, not more heat!" the man exclaimed impatiently, and the apprentice looked at the ground.

"My actions bring me sorrow, Master Varathorn," the young man apologized.

"And so they should. Truly the art will be lost to us forever at this rate!" Varathorn sighed, spotting Neria and Katja out of the corner of his eye. "Throw away your dead wood and start anew, and I shall speak to our guests," he added, and the apprentice nodded. "Andaran atish'an, friend," Varathorn greeted Neria, recognizing the Dalish woman. "It has been some years since I met Master Ilen at the last gathering. He is still hale, I hope?" he asked, and Neria shrugged.

"I don't know. I haven't seen my clan for some time," Neria admitted, and Varathorn frowned slightly, his tone apologetic.

"Is that so? Ir abelas. To be separated from one's clan is to be separated from one's heart," he replied. "I met your father, once; he was a good Keeper. You carry many of his features," he added, and Neria smiled slightly. "He spoke at a gathering, telling the clans that more of us need to voyage into the shemlen world and learn their ways. He would be proud to see his daughter traveling with a Grey Warden, I think."

"Thank you, that's kind of you to say," Neria nodded.

"Our people speak so little of the dead, especially those who end in…in tragedy," Varathorn's voice softened. "I thought you should know, regardless."

"You seem quite advanced in the old craft, Master," Neria complimented. "My friend Katja is curious about how our weapons and armor are made." Varathorn glanced at the Dwarf, spotting the crossbow on her back.

"What little of the craft I have learned has been passed onto me through generations; such is the time it has taken us to learn a fraction of what has been lost," he sighed, shaking his head with regret. "I do not make bows as fine as Master Ilen's, perhaps, but mine have caused more than one shemlen to drool at the thought of possessing them," he added with a chuckle. "I work little with crossbows, but if you are interested, I might be able to look at your weapon," Varathorn said, watching as Katja's eyes lit up.

"Could you? Old Gunnhild here has definitely seen better days," Katja sighed, patting her crossbow affectionately – it had been a gift from Leske after their first job as carta members.

"May I have a look?" Varathorn asked, and Katja handed him the crossbow. He looked it over carefully, nodding slightly – with the right materials, he could upgrade the weapon to fire faster, and reload more smoothly. "There is wood that, if treated properly, is as hard as steel but far lighter. It grows only in this forest – ironbark," he began, once he returned the crossbow. "With that material, I could greatly improve your Gunnhild."

"Wow, that'd be great!" Katja grinned. "She's got a nasty kick sometimes, and she's been jamming up lately. What would you want in return?" she asked, and Varathorn sighed.

"Unfortunately, I don't have any ironbark in camp," he admitted, and Katja's face fell. "The Keeper has forbidden us from entering the forest to collect the wood. This means I cannot make our finest crafts for years to come."

"Would you agree to upgrade Katja's crossbow if we brought you some?" Neria asked, and Varathorn nodded slightly.

"I would be hesitant to ask it of you…but if you should come across ironbark, I suppose there would be no harm in gathering some. It is blue and very distinctive," Varathorn replied. "You can only harvest the bark which has fallen off the tree from age. If you find some, bring it to me and I will craft it for you."

"Ma serannas," Neria thanked him. "Would you…also happen to have any spare armor?" she added, and Varathorn smiled slightly – he noticed that she was wearing the clumsily crafted leather armor that the shemlen made, and looked immensely uncomfortable around her fellow hunters.

"I have a few sets in my aravel – help yourself to one that fits, free of charge," he replied, holding his hand up as she opened her mouth to argue. "You are already doing us a service by helping our hunters, and retrieving the ironbark, lethallan."

"Thank you again, Master Varathorn," Neria bowed once more, heading into the aravel behind the craftsman. She returned a few minutes later, wearing a set of inscribed leather armor, and Katja raised an eyebrow – the breastplate didn't go past the Elf's ribs, and the skirt was very short, with a set of short leggings underneath. A pair of knee-high boots and fingerless gloves up to the elbows completed Neria's look, and she let out a long, content sigh as she gathered her hair up into a ponytail, the long strands reaching mid-way down her back.

"Does that…even _protect_ against anything?" Katja asked, raising an eyebrow, and Neria chuckled at her friend's look.

"Dalish armor is enchanted to extend over the skin – the only thing that's actually unprotected is my head," Neria explained. "And I'd be a pretty poor hunter to get hit in the first place," she added with a wink as the two bade Master Varathorn good evening.

"Hmm…you sure you didn't just get that for Zevran?" the Dwarf teased, eyeing the breastplate and short skirt, and Neria smirked.

"Well…maybe a little," she admitted. She knew that he liked her tattoos, so what better way to show them off than to wear midriff-revealing armor?

"You go show off your cute armor to Zevran; I'd like to explore camp a bit more," Katja called, heading back towards the statue Fen'Harel, and Neria nodded, smiling slightly as she went to look for the assassin.

oooo

Neria found herself down by the halla pens – she knew Zevran probably wouldn't be down here, but there was another reason for her visit. The Master Herder of this clan, Elora, was busying herself tending to a halla nearby, and Neria walked casually past her, moving to the other side of the pen and leaning lightly against the fence.

The beautiful creatures turned their heads as they sniffed the air, making soft lowing and bleating sounds as they looked about. A young one, its horns not yet grown, saw Neria and walked delicately over, its liquid-brown eyes curious as it approached. Neria's breath hitched in her throat – a halla had never approached her before. She very carefully reached a hand into the enclosure, and the young halla sniffed at her fingers, its velvet snout an inch away.

Before Neria could touch the animal, a loud, angry braying startled her, and she leapt back from the fence as a larger halla charged her, rearing up and snorting as the fur on its chest and scruff puffed out threateningly. Neria stared up at the halla and swore under her breath, clenching her jaw and forcing down the urge to leap at the creature and sink her teeth into its throat.

"Ah! Be calm!" Elora gasped, trotting over and hopping lightly over the fence, holding out her hands as the halla let out soft snorts, waving its antlers about and pawing at the ground. "Please, you're scaring them," Elora said, looking confused as the other halla in the herd became agitated as well. Neria got slowly to her feet, brushing herself down and bobbing her head apologetically, hurrying off into the trees.

She sat in silence on a small ridge that overlooked a sheer drop, a deep, tree-filled valley below. She closed her eyes and curled her knees up to her chest, burying her face in her arms miserably as she sobbed. As a child, her only dream was to become a halla rider, with Tamlen as the lancer and she the archer. Neria learned very soon, though, that the halla weren't just anxious around her – they were outright _terrified_ of her.

"A double-edged blade; a blessing and a curse…" she echoed the words of the Wolf. He walked in her dreams, sometimes to give advice, but mostly to play pranks, or speak strange riddles she wouldn't find the answers to until years later. He had given one such riddle about Adeline herself – what blood of blood is both demon, yet not demon, and mortal, yet not mortal?

Neria glanced over her shoulder as she recognized the musky tang of Zevran's scent, rubbing quickly at her eyes and hoping they weren't as swollen as they felt. The assassin sat next to her in silence, glancing briefly at her face before gazing out over the ridge. He listened as Neria slowly uncurled from her tense fetal position, and she looked at him for a long time before a small smile painted her face.

"I got new armor," she remarked, and Zevran chuckled, sliding a hand across her back and running his fingers over her skin, tracing the shape of the wolf tattoo.

"Hmm…now I remember my favorite part about the Dalish," he smirked as she chuckled, sidling closer to him as he patted her side. Neria closed her eyes, resting her head gently on Zevran's shoulder and letting out a long sigh.

"Zevran?" she asked softly, and he nodded.

"¿Si, mi querida?" he replied.

"Could you…help me plant a sapling for Tamlen?" she murmured, and he took one of her hands gently in his, pressing her knuckles to his lips.

"Of course," he whispered, helping Neria to her feet.

oOo

After I had written a few notes in my journal, I folded the book away, standing and heading back towards the main Dalish camp, spotting some of the others sitting around a large bonfire and listening to an older Elf telling a story to some children. I glanced at Neria, noticing that she had gotten new armor, and I raised an eyebrow as I indicated my midriff – hers was unprotected. The woman simply smiled and winked, and I shrugged, trusting her judgment. Once the storyteller had finished his tale, he glanced up at me, nodding curtly in greeting.

"We few wanderers greet you, stranger. We do not see many of our city brethren here in the woods. Will you join us in taking our meal?" he asked, and I nodded, sitting down next to Leliana as she passed me a bowl of broth.

"Ma serannas," I thanked the Elf as I sat, and he raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised when I thanked him in Elvish.

"I am Hahren Sarel, the clan's taleteller. I understand you are venturing into the haunted forest to save our hunters?" he asked, and I nodded. "I suspect your efforts may be in vain; an entire group of hunters went into the forest to do as you intend, and they have not returned," Sarel sighed pessimistically, and I shrugged.

"I happen to be quite good at this sort of thing," I remarked, and the Hahren's eyes narrowed slightly at my words.

"An outsider to the rescue, but of course! What were we doing trying to solve our own problems?" he snorted sarcastically, and I raised an eyebrow at the sudden hostility.

"Ooh, ouch," I replied, stirring my spoon around the edge of my soup. "I guess that's what I get, being born a 'flat-ear' I suppose!" I grinned at the Hahren, the smile not reaching my eyes as I clenched my teeth; it wasn't that I expected to be welcomed with open arms, but the Dalish man's outright hostility came as a surprise. He was quiet, seeing my offense, and I glanced down at my food, an awkward silence hanging in the air.

"You are being most unkind, Sarel. Would you refuse our hunters help simply because of the hand that offered it?" a young woman chided, and Sarel glanced at her, sighing and looking back at me apologetically.

"You shame me, lethallan. I have allowed my bitterness to cloud my better judgment," Sarel sighed. "Forgive me, Grey Warden. It is most difficult to forget the lessons these shemlen have taught us," he apologized, and Zevran leaned back against the bench as he sat on the ground, glancing up at the older Elf.

"It is even more difficult when you live amongst them, trust me," he remarked, and I smiled slightly at my friend.

"Perhaps I can yet make amends. Stay while I spin a tale for our children, and then I will tell you of the forest, if you desire," Sarel offered, and I nodded.

"Yes, I'd like that," I replied, and the Hahren glanced around the fire at some of the children who were sitting nearby, looking up at Sten with wide, curious eyes. The Qunari was silent as he ignored them, and I tried not to laugh at how inquisitive the children were.

"Now, what say we tell the story of the fall of the Dales? Which of you children knows that best?" Sarel asked, and a young boy spoke up, folding his hands in his lap and setting down his bowl of soup.

"I…I think I do," he stammered out.

"Yes? Then come, child. Don't be frightened of the outsiders," Sarel urged as the boy walked over, seeming a bit nervous around us as he sat next to the Hahren. "Now…where do you suppose such a tale should begin?" Sarel asked, and the boy thought for a moment.

"When we were slaves?" he asked, and Sarel nodded.

"Yes. Long ago, our people were slaves to an empire the shemlen had built on the darkest magic. They took away our history and our language and left us nothing. And then that empire fell and we were freed," the Hahren recalled, and the boy grinned as he joined in.

"Because Andraste came with her army and Shartan joined her!" he exclaimed.

"Yes. Andraste, the shemlen prophet, came out of the south and challenged the Tevinter Imperium. Our ancestor, Shartan, fought at her side. And when the rebellion came to an end, we were given a new homeland in the west: the Dales. We began to rebuild the culture and history we had lost in our years of slavery. We worshipped the Creators and made the Dales our home. Perhaps you know what happened next, stranger? Do you know what happened to the Dales?" Sarel asked, turning and facing me.

"You were invaded by the humans," I replied, remembering the story that my mother had told me long ago.

"Indeed. They resented that we would not worship their Maker, and they resented our ways because they were so different from their own. The shemlen nations grew cold towards the Dales. They called us blasphemers and tyrants and declared war upon us – a great crusade," Sarel continued.

"It's a war we started, I'm told…" I remarked.

"A history that has been dictated by the victors, no doubt," Sarel replied. "Oh, I am certain we played a part in our downfall. We believed that the shemlen would not revoke their prophet's gift so lightly. We were wrong; they took our lands, forcing us to abandon our gods and live as beggars in shemlen cities," he added.

"You should have fought. You should have fought to the last of you. Better that than to submit," Sten said, and Sarel looked at him, raising an eyebrow at the Qunari.

"Oh? Is it not the Qunari way to force others to submit? Surely that would not be your advice to my people were they attacked by the mighty Qunari," the Hahren replied, and Sten ignored the man's sarcastic tone.

"That would be different. The Qunari would improve your people. The humans have improved nothing," the Qunari countered, and I glanced back at the Hahren, who shrugged, not wanting to argue with him.

"Perhaps. Even so, many of us _did_ fight – we fought and we lost. But there were those of us who refused to abandon our ways; they emblazoned the symbols of the Creators upon their flesh and vowed to keep their ancient lore alive," Sarel continued.

"That's us! That's the Dalish!" the young boy chimed in, and Sarel nodded, smiling at his eagerness.

"Indeed, child. We chose to wander, homeless, rather than be ruled by the shemlen. And all our clans wander alone until the day we have a homeland once more," Sarel said.

"Then we bring the old ways back to our people because they have forgotten it all," the boy added.

"For we are the Dalish: the Keepers of the Lost Lore…" Sarel's tone was suddenly different, and I felt my heartbeat pick up.

"The Walkers of the Lonely Path…" a woman continued.

"We are the Elvhenan, and never again shall we submit," Neria finished, and I felt a shiver go down my spine at their words.

"And that is the tale of the Dales, stranger. Thank you for allowing us to tell it to you," Sarel said, and I smiled at the older man, bowing my head gratefully.

"Thank you. I enjoyed it very much," I replied.

"Perhaps one day, you will tell us a tale of your people. A day when you are not guest and stranger but savior. Now, as I said I would, I can tell you what I know of the Brecilian Forest. Do you wish to hear it?" Sarel offered, and I nodded.

"Yes, tell me of the forest, if you would," I said, and he cleared his throat.

"Our legends say that before the shemlen came, the Brecilian forest was a place of our ancestors that predated even our oldest homeland. The people of the Imperium came here and gave the forest its name. If they found traces of our ancestors, we cannot say. If they did, those Elves were slain or enslaved. We know only that a great many battles were fought here; these trees grow upon the graves of those who fell – shemlen and Elves both," Sarel explained.

"And those battles…tore the Veil?" I asked, and Sarel nodded.

"Indeed, very wise of you," the Hahren remarked, continuing with his tale. "There was so much death that the Veil into the Beyond was torn. The shemlen know the Beyond as 'the Fade', the place of dreams and spirits. When the Veil is torn, spirits pass into our world freely. The legends say that one great spirit possessed the wolf that became Witherfang, who passed its curse of rage onto men and created werewolves."

"Keeper Zathrian mentioned the wolf. This Witherfang is still around, yes?" I asked, and Sarel shrugged, seeming a little doubtful.

"So Zathrian insists. He says that Witherfang does not age as the werewolves do. Witherfang is as much spirit as it is beast, and thus it is immortal – perhaps it cannot even be slain. At the very least it is old and powerful, much as Zathrian himself," Sarel replied.

"Do you know how many werewolves there are?" I wondered, and Sarel looked into the fire, shaking his head slightly as his eyes grew distant.

"No one knows. When the shemlen lived in these parts, the curse would spread anew to a few of them with each passing year. They would run off into the forest, never to be seen again – eventually, all the shemlen left. One assumes the werewolves survive by passing their curse to their offspring. They have had no new blood…until now, that is," Sarel said ominously, and I glanced towards the area where the sick had been placed, nodding towards it.

"Have any of the hunters become werewolves?" I asked, and Sarel glanced at the area I had indicated, biting his lip as he knotted his fingers together, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward with a sigh.

"It is said that one or two have turned already, though the Keeper denies it. As for the rest, they will either die or turn, unless…" he closed his eyes in pain, "…they are killed out of mercy. I would rather die than become a ravening, soulless beast. Wouldn't you?" Sarel asked, and I looked sadly towards the sick area, hoping that the situation wouldn't come to that.

"That's all I need to know," I said, folding my hands on my lap and looking at the crackling bonfire, trying to figure out what I would do.

"One last warning; the forest is like a thing alive. It changes as it wills, closing paths behind you and opening up new ones. Too many have become lost within, unable to find their way out. Were I you, I would endeavor not to make the forest my enemy," Sarel cautioned, and I nodded as I stood.

"Ma serannas, Hahren," I thanked him as I headed back to our groups' tents.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	45. Chapter 45: Fen'Asha

Chapter 45

Fen'Asha

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

I was restless again that night, tossing and turning, unable to sleep; the air was thick with the strange energy I had sensed before – an incessant prickling feeling along my skin that made the hair stand up along the back of my neck. I sat up slowly, moving quietly so I wouldn't disturb Alistair; some of the others didn't seem bothered by the energy, although I knew the mages, Olan, and Alistair could tell that something was wrong in the woods, involving ancient magic. It seemed that it was more subtle for the others – they didn't look as uncomfortable as I felt, but perhaps they were better at hiding their discomfort.

I pulled on my pants as I walked out of the tent in my night-shirt, kneeling down near the smoldering remains of our fire and glancing at Morrigan, who was also still up. Her eyes flashed in the darkness, seeming to reflect the light of the distant fires like a cat, and I nodded silently in greeting before standing again, walking quietly through the camp.

As I wandered around, I saw a young, fair-haired man leaning against a tree, his expression caught between longing and sadness as he watched someone. I followed his gaze, spotting a pretty, red-haired girl patrolling the edge of camp, her eyes scanning the trees as she held her bow ready. The young man noticed me watching him, glancing down in embarrassment as I approached.

"Err…hello?" he greeted awkwardly, and I smiled gently, not wanting to frighten him.

"There's no need to be afraid of me. You can call me Adeline," I said softly, introducing myself. The Elf was a few years younger than me, his face still soft, and his cheeks were round with baby-fat. He nodded in greeting, clearing his throat and looking at me apologetically.

"I'm sorry; I'm not used to dealing with outsiders…th-though we do get people like you from time to time. Elves from the city, I mean," he replied, still a little nervous, it seemed. "I am Cammen, a hunter apprentice. Though I wish I could become a real hunter," he sighed, leaning his head against the tree and closing his eyes.

"Why can't you?" I asked curiously, and Cammen opened his eyes, shaking his head slightly.

"I…shouldn't be talking about this to an outsider. You wouldn't understand," he said apologetically, and I shrugged, smiling a bit.

"Try me. I might surprise you," I argued, and he let out a soft sigh.

"I…suppose there's no harm in it – it's not like you can help me," he relented. "I've been an apprentice for too long. To become a true hunter, I must bring back the pelt of a beast I killed myself; a boar or a wolf or…something. I wanted to hunt in the forest, but we're forbidden to enter because of the attack. But…the real problem is Gheyna," he sighed, nodding towards the red-haired woman, his eyes sad as he bit his lip.

"Girl problems?" I asked him, trying not to chuckle as I crossed my arms, watching the Elf hunter as she brushed a loose bit of hair out of her eyes, the fiery strands shining faintly in the light of the campfires.

"She's my heart's desire. I have asked for her hand, but she cruelly refuses it. She will not bond with an apprentice, she says, and calls me a child," Cammen said miserably, closing his eyes for a moment. "I am no child! If I was a hunter, I could prove it, but I cannot hunt and…and Gheyna will never bond with me! I feel so helpless!" he exclaimed in frustration, glaring at the ground. "I shouldn't have brought it up. Just leave me to my misery," he grumbled, and I cocked my head, glancing between him and Gheyna and pursing my lips.

"There must be _some_ way to solve your problem," I reasoned, and Cammen snorted softly, shaking his head.

"You think I haven't thought about this? There's nothing I can do," he said hopelessly, looking at me sadly.

"Why not go into the forest anyway?" I asked and he glanced towards Zathrian's aravel, shaking his head quickly.

"But the Keeper said…no, I just can't. What if I encountered a werewolf? I couldn't defeat one of those on my own," Cammen argued, and I shrugged.

"Why not come with me, then?" I offered, and he sighed.

"The Keeper would know right away if I left camp. Ma serannas for the offer, however. That's very kind of you," Cammen murmured, and I put my hands on my hips, growing impatient with his reluctant attitude.

"Maker's _breath_ , quit being so finicky!" I laughed, scowling playfully at him. "Listen, we can go into the woods and find a wolf or something. _I'll_ take care of any werewolves, alright?" I urged, and Cammen looked at me quietly, seeing the confident look in my eyes.

"You…sound very certain of your abilities, outsider," he remarked, and I smiled more gently at the nervous apprentice.

"I have to be. You can't battle the Blight if you're not sure of yourself," I chuckled, though I said it with more confidence than I felt. "And hey, if someone catches us, I can say I forced you to come along because I needed a guide. The Elves here already don't seem to like our company, but I doubt this will sway their opinions much," I argued, and Cammen glanced around, lowering his head slightly.

"…alright," he sighed, relenting, and I patted his shoulder encouragingly.

"Good. Grab your bow and let's sneak out when they change patrols," I said, heading back to my tent and buckling on my saber.

Alistair stirred at the noise, opening his eyes sleepily and looking up at me. "Mmm…where are you going?" he asked drowsily, and I knelt next to him, smiling gently.

"Nowhere, love. Just stepping out for a bit," I murmured, running a hand through his hair and kissing his forehead as he went back to sleep, smiling faintly at me and settling down with a sigh.

"Don't be long, now," he whispered, and I reflected his smile as his breathing softened, and he went back to sleep. I slipped back out of the tent, meeting Cammen by a secluded spot at the edge of camp and sneaking out as the sentries changed watch.

oooo

The Brecilian was beautiful at night – strange, glowing flowers were nestled among the bushes and tangles of brambles, and the grass felt cool and soft beneath my bare feet. "This place is…breathtaking…" I murmured, staring up at the trees that towered over our heads, and Cammen glanced back at me. We traveled through the dark woodlands, and I kept my knife ready, should anything leap out and attack. Cammen seemed tense, and I smiled at him, telling the young man to relax, and to focus on his task.

As we moved deeper into the forest, Cammen and I stopped at a small ridge, looking out towards a river that flowed through the trees and over the mossy ground. "We haven't seen anything yet. Maybe we should–" Cammen began, his words cut off by a piercing howl in the distance. I grabbed his arm as the boy turned to bolt, shaking my head and holding a finger to my lips, indicating that we should kneel. We crouched among the tall grass, looking down through the trees and brush to find the source of the howl, but we didn't see anything.

"Come on, then," I said, motioning for us to continue. "Don't worry. I won't let anything hurt you," I promised, and Cammen nodded slightly, still looking a bit nervous. As we came to the stream, I stepped forward, testing the wooden planks that served as a bridge carefully – they looked quite old, and were covered in a thick growth of moss, and I was afraid that they would collapse out from under us. Once I saw that it was safe, I took a step forward.

A snarl from up ahead startled me, and a huge, brown-furred creature leapt out of the bushes, landing on the bridge and rising up on its hind-legs, towering over me. _W-werewolf!_ My mind went blank for a moment with panic, and I instinctively drew my knife, taking a step back and holding up my hand for Cammen to get behind me. A pair of smaller, grey-furred werewolves stalked out of the bushes after the first one, snarling threateningly as they stood by his side.

"By the Creators!" I heard Cammen gasp, nocking an arrow and taking a few steps back, shaking like a leaf.

"Hrrr. The watch-wolves have spoken truly, my brothers and sisters. Another of the Dalish, come to put us in our place, come to make us pay for our attack," the lead werewolf growled, and I tried to mask my surprise. _They can_ _ **speak?**_ I thought, watching the werewolf carefully.

"And who are you?" I asked, and the werewolf snorted, his fur bristling slightly as glared down at me.

"You speak to Swiftrunner. I lead my cursed brothers and sisters," he rumbled, ending his words in a low growl. "Hrrrr. Turn back now, go back to the Dalish and tell them that you have failed. Hrrr. Tell them we will gladly watch them suffer the same curse we have suffered for too long. We will watch them pay!" he snarled, and I slowly sheathed my knife, holding up my hands and trying to be diplomatic. Cammen stared at me with wide eyes, asking me if I was insane, but I ignored him, looking steadily up at the werewolf.

"I would prefer to talk to you. I mean you no harm," I said gently, and Swiftrunner growled deep in his throat, pulling his lips back and baring long, jagged fangs.

"Was it not Zathrian who sent you? Hrrrr. He wishes only our destruction, never to talk!" the werewolf snarled, and I flinched a bit as the other two werewolves growled as well, the sound making the bridge under my feet tremble slightly.

"Is there no way this can be resolved peacefully?" I asked nervously, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. Swiftrunner shook his head, his ears lying flat against his head as he glared.

"The time for peace is long past. There will be no peace between the Elves and we who are cursed," he growled, and I took a slow breath, trying to calm myself.

"Please, I just want to talk. Maybe you can tell me more about this curse of yours? We didn't even know you _could_ talk," I admitted, and the brown-furred werewolf loomed over me, looking down at me with disdain.

"You know _nothing_ , do you? Nothing of us and even _less_ of those you serve. You are a fool, and we are done talking. Run from the forest while you can. Run to the Dalish and tell them they are doomed," he snarled derisively, lowering himself into a threatening stance. I took a step back, watching him warily.

"I…don't want to fight, but neither can I retreat," I argued, my tone almost pleading. The werewolf didn't back down, but his ears lowered a bit, flattening against his skull.

"I do not wish to fight you. But our enemy has sent you to us, and now you force our hand. Hrrr. Come, brother and sister. Swiftrunner calls you to battle! Drive this invader from our midst!" the werewolf commanded, and the other werewolves snarled, leaping at me.

"Cammen, stay back!" I cried, leaping back and drawing my blades. I didn't want to kill them if at all possible; instead of cutting them, I slapped the werewolves with the flats of my blades, and they let out yelps at the stinging blows, staggering back as I kicked and elbowed, staying between them and Cammen as the young hunter kept out of range, fumbling with his arrows. "Don't!" I yelled as he shot at Swiftrunner.

The arrow grazed the werewolf's ear, and he howled, charging at the young Elf. Cammen shrieked and turned on his heel, and I sheathed my blades, leaping at Swiftrunner and grappling with him, feeling the long claws tearing at my shirt, cutting a long gash in my side. I let out a pained yelp as I was thrown clear, the wind knocked out of me as I slammed against a tree. I managed to stagger to my feet, gasping for breath as I ran after Swiftrunner.

Cammen flailed with his dar'misu, lashing out at the werewolf as it leapt at him, cutting Swiftrunner across the snout. I bowled into the werewolf as he snapped at the terrified boy, and we tumbled and rolled down a steep incline, landing with a huff as we hit a stone. I knelt on top of Swiftrunner as he lay stunned for a moment, trying to hold him back, but the werewolf was too strong, throwing me off easily as he recovered.

"Just stop!" I yelled as I leapt at him again, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding him down – my Charm ability hadn't worked when we were speaking earlier, and I guessed that his anger was drowning out my power. Swiftrunner roared at me, and in his rage sank his teeth deep into my shoulder; I screamed, nearly fainting from the pain. I held on tightly as Swiftrunner slowly stopped struggling, and his breathing evened out as he tasted my blood. "Please…please just _calm down_ …" I whimpered through the pain, tears running down my cheeks as I clung to the werewolf, his long teeth burning against my flesh.

He managed to wrench himself free and I fell to the ground, gasping for breath and staring up at him, unable to defend myself if I tried. Swiftrunner looked down at me, backing away slowly and glancing up the hill as his companions ran down after us. "Enough!" Swiftrunner barked, snarling at the others to back down as they moved towards me to finish the job.

A loud roar tore through the night, and a huge, golden-furred she-wolf leapt down from the ridge, landing in front of me with bristling fur and tense shoulders. She growled low in her throat, and Swiftrunner and the other werewolves suddenly whimpered and backed down, their ears flattening back against their skulls. The snarling grew louder, and the wolf took a step forward, her lips drawn back to reveal razor-sharp teeth.

Swiftrunner gave a small, half-hearted growl, his ears down. "The forest has eyes of its own and it shall deal with you! You have been warned," he said in a low voice, running off into the dark woods, the other two werewolves at his heels.

I gasped, slowly getting into a sitting position and trembling, blood pouring from the wounds on my shoulder and on my side. The wolf turned on me and I stared – she had piercing, crystal-blue eyes that stabbed into my soul. Her gaze was accusatory, as if she knew I wasn't supposed to be outside of camp, letting out a soft huff as she saw my wound. She walked over slowly, gently sniffing at the injury before licking at the blood, and I cringed in pain. The she-wolf made a gentle grunting sound, nuzzling my cheek and butting her forehead against mine, a low whine in her throat.

"…Neria?" I whispered, and the wolf paused as she continued to lick my wound. "That _is_ you…isn't it?" I asked. The wolf took a step back, bobbing her head – it seemed like she was unable to speak in this form. Before I could ask anything else, her head whipped around, and she gave a soft huff, trotting off into the trees.

"You're…you're hurt!" Cammen gasped as he ran down the hill towards me. I looked up at him blearily, glad to see that he was unharmed.

"Calm down…it's…it's nothing," I breathed, cringing as I tried to stand. "Okay, maybe it…hurts a bit. Here, help me wrap this up and we can continue," I asked, and Cammen knelt next to me, rummaging through the small pack at his hip.

"We need to get you back to camp. What if you've caught the curse?" he exclaimed, pulling some bandages from his bag and unraveling them, looking between the cloth and my wounds doubtfully. "And I don't think I have enough to treat your wounds," he added, and I sighed. I pulled out my knife, cutting up the lower part of my nightshirt into strips, handing them to Cammen.

"Oh just be quiet and focus. Don't worry about some reckless flat-ear," I joked half-heartedly as the young Elf wrapped my wounds, his eyes worried. "Ugh, and don't tell _anyone_ I was injured. My friends will _kill_ me if they find out I did something like this," I added, not anticipating explaining this to Wynne. Or Alistair. _Especially_ Alistair. _Neria though…_ I wondered what she was; she looked like a very large wolf, unlike her anthropomorphized counterparts. _I'll…I'll see to that when we get back to the Dalish camp,_ I thought, trying to stay focused.

Once I was able to walk again, we continued through the dark woods. Cammen found a large boar digging up roots by some bushes, fumbling with his bow as he nocked an arrow. "Shh…just take a deep breath, and calm down," I instructed gently, and Cammen swallowed hard, holding his breath as his arms stopped shaking. He shot down the boar, staring at it with wide eyes, as if he couldn't believe that he had done it.

As Cammen was skinning the boar, I walked a little ways off, pausing as I glanced down into a small dip in the ground, under some bushes; I thought I had heard a faint groan coming from that spot, and I walked closer to investigate. I spotted a gloved hand, and my eyes widened in surprise; I knelt down and crawled a little way into the foliage, finding an unconscious Elf hunter lying wounded under the bushes.

"Cammen! There's someone over here, and he's hurt!" I called, and Cammen trotted over, staring at the man as I slowly pulled him out into the open.

"That's Deygan!" Cammen exclaimed, helping me patch up the hunter's wounds. "We need to get him back to camp," he added, running back to his boar and finishing skinning it. Once he was done, he knelt next to the hunter as I tried to revive him. I patted his cheek gently, and Cammen held a water-skin up to the man's lips. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at us blearily, taking a few slow breaths and trying to get his bearings.

"I…wh-where am I? Am I still in the woods?" he asked softly, and I nodded, helping him into a sitting position.

"Easy there," I murmured softly as his face turned green, and he clutched his head. "And yes, this is still the Brecilian Forest," I added.

"I see. I…ahh!" he gasped suddenly, startling me. "What of…the other hunters? Do they yet live?" he asked, looking between Cammen and me.

"We haven't seen anyone else in this area," Cammen remarked, and Deygan sighed.

"I hope that they found safety…though it seems unlikely," he murmured, biting his lip.

"Can you tell us what happened?" I asked, and Deygan nodded.

"We…we were beset upon by…a pack of werewolves. Savages…not like the ones who…attacked the camp," his breathing picked up and his eyes glazed over in fear at the memory. He cringed in pain, his wounds hurting him, and he placed a hand on his abdomen, gritting his teeth. "We tried our best, but…too many…ahhh, the pain! I…" his eyes rolled back in his head, and the Elf fainted, slumping over. I caught him before his head hit the ground, looking at Cammen worriedly.

"Let's get back to camp," Cammen urged, and I nodded, grabbing Deygan's legs as Cammen took his arms. We walked over the uneven ground, and my breathing picked up. I stumbled a bit, tripping over a loose stone, and I fell, struggling to get up as the world spun around me. I stared up at Cammen as he yelled at me to keep my eyes open, and I giggled, too dizzy to sit up as the Elf frantically shook my uninjured shoulder.

oooo

 _I stood in the Fade, but it was different, somehow, than normal. It felt like something was watching me – hard, predatory eyes. A feral hunger made my skin crawl, and I stared about in fear, sensing that I was being hunted by something ancient and powerful. The piercing howl of a wolf made me jump, and a great, white wolf stood on a twisted ridge, looking down at me with a burning, ravenous desire. I screamed in pain as it leapt down at me, seeming to force itself into my very being and sending scorches of agony through me._

oooo

I came-to a while later, cringing and blinking my eyes open, taking in a long, slow breath. "Ah, good, you're awake, friend," a man's voice said gently, and I rolled onto my side, looking up at a red-haired Elf with delicate tattoos across his face, smiling kindly as he knelt next to me. "Your wounds were quite serious – I'm surprised you had the strength to walk, let alone carry poor Deygan there," he added, indicating the hunter, who was still unconscious.

"Mmm…I'm surprised too," I sighed, sitting up slowly. I patted my shoulder and side, my eyes widening in astonishment – my injuries were completely healed, and I looked back at the Elf, who smiled at me.

"Cammen told me what happened. I've treated your wounds, and Deygan's as well – he's still unconscious, but he'll live. You should get back to camp soon, though. The woods aren't safe for those who don't know the path," he said, and I nodded.

"Thank you. My name is Adeline," I introduced myself, bowing my head slightly.

"I am Aneirin," the Elf replied in kind. The name rang a bell…but I couldn't quite recall where I had heard it before. I thanked Aneirin once more, helping Cammen carry Deygan back towards the Dalish camp. We walked in silence for a few minutes, and I let out a soft sigh – I didn't feel faint, thankfully, but I wasn't looking forward to getting back to camp. If the others spotted the blood on my clothes…

"You shouldn't have gone out," an accusatory voice said from the trees nearby, and Cammen and I jumped – Neria was standing on a tall rise, her arms crossed as she looked down on us. She slid down the steep slope, walking up to me and poking my shoulder, the nightshirt covered in blood. "You were wounded, and you put Cammen in danger," she scolded, and I stared at her. I opened my mouth to argue, yelping and dropping Deygan's legs as Neria slapped me hard across the face.

" _Ow!_ What the _fuck!?_ " I yelled, staring in confusion as she suddenly hugged me, burying her face in my hair.

"You stupid, stupid little girl," Neria murmured, hugging me tightly and pressing kisses across my face. "You could have _died!_ " she exclaimed. "I can't lose another family member," she whispered, and I looked down, my cheeks red with shame. _I always make them worry, don't I?_ I thought, closing my eyes and resting my head on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Neria," I murmured, and she raised my chin with her fingers, seeing the sincerity in my eyes.

"You're my little sister, lethallan – I can't lose you, too," Neria sighed, kissing my forehead and gently touching my cheek – it was swollen, now, from her slap. "I'm sorry," she added softly, and I chuckled, shaking my head.

"Oh, trust me, that was long overdue," I replied, butting my forehead against hers. "When we get back to camp, can you explain?" I asked, and she nodded slightly.

"Of course. I owe you that much," she promised. Neria walked over to Cammen, bending down and slinging Deygan over one shoulder, motioning for us to follow her as we returned to camp. We paused as we neared the place, and I groaned softly; Mithra was standing by the trees with her arms crossed, looking at us sternly. "Found them," Neria said, and Mithra gave a short nod.

"Our scouts spotted you leaving the camp," she remarked as we walked over to her, giving me a withering look. She glanced at Deygan's unconscious body, and at the pelt over Cammen's shoulder. "…but it seems you've done more help than harm. Ma serannas – your help is appreciated," Mithra relented. "Come, lethallin. Let us take Deygan to the Keeper to see to his wounds," she added, and Cammen nodded gratefully to me as he and Mithra took Deygan between them.

I watched Cammen walk off with the pelt over his shoulder, and Neria and I headed quietly back to our group's section of the camp. She motioned for me to follow her, and we soon found ourselves standing by an ancient statue of a great wolf, facing away from the main camp. Neria sat down in front of the statue, looking up at it for a few moments before patting the grass next to her. I joined her, sitting cross-legged and listening as she began.

"This is Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf," she said, indicating the statue. "He walks between the Creators and the Forgotten Ones without fear." She slowly rubbed her hands together, letting out a long sigh before continuing. "My parents were murdered on the night of my birth," Neria whispered. "My father killed by humans, and my mother gravely wounded – she lived long enough to give birth to me, and died soon after." She closed her eyes, pulling her knees up to her chest; she didn't sound sad – her tone was resigned, and without emotion, as if reading words from a page.

"He found me," she indicated the statue. "He changed me, in his image, called me daughter, and placed me among a litter of wolf cubs, so that I would not die." She chuckled softly, her eyes warm as she looked at the statue. "I…still don't know what he was thinking, in all honesty. Fen'Harel has never been a benevolent god…but perhaps he was acting on a whim?"

I looked at Neria with wide eyes, and she glanced back at me, chuckling again at my expression. "I…I guess I shouldn't be _too_ surprised, what with my own situation," I remarked, and she grinned, flashing her long canines at me.

"I don't blame you if you're…afraid of me, even in light of your own transformation," Neria sighed as her smile faded, and I shook my head hurriedly.

"No, of course not!" I almost shouted, and she stared at me. "Neria, I'm not afraid of you. I promise," I said in a softer tone. Her lips wobbled, and her eyes misted over as a small, relieved sob escaped her mouth. I smiled and sidled up to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You're my big sister, Neria – I know you wouldn't hurt me," I murmured, and she chuckled softly, gently touching my cheek – the swelling had gone down, but it was still a bit red.

"I…won't mention your injuries to anyone," Neria said, helping me to my feet.

"And I won't say anything about your ability," I replied, and she nodded in thanks.

oooo

I slipped into my tent before anyone saw me, letting out a soft sigh as I knelt down, seeing that Alistair was still asleep. I took off my bloodied night-shirt and pants, making a face at the garments and gingerly touching my shoulder and side, glad that Aneirin had healed me – I didn't know if I would have been able to explain my injuries away. I glanced back as I heard Alistair stirring slightly, looking at him in the darkness of the tent.

"Did you go somewhere?" he asked softly, slowly sitting up.

"I just stepped out for a bit," I murmured, rummaging through my pack hurriedly, trying to get another shirt on before Alistair lit a lantern and saw the bloodied night-shirt.

"Adeline," Alistair's voice was stern, and I shoved the ruined shirt into my pack quickly as I heard him moving. "I smell blood." I felt his breath on the back of my neck as he moved his hands gently over my back and shoulders, searching for an injury. When he couldn't find anything, he let out a soft sigh. "You went out to the woods, didn't you," he said, and I bit my lip.

"I…yes," I sighed guiltily, and I felt him place a hand on my bare shoulder. "I know, I'm reckless, and I didn't think," I murmured, and he sighed softly, wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on my shoulder as he pulled me to him; I closed my eyes as I felt the warmth of his chest against my bare skin, his heart beating against my back.

"I heard wolves howling, and when I woke up and you weren't here…well, you can probably guess what my first thought was," Alistair murmured, his arms tightening around me, and I laughed, glancing back at him as he kissed my hair, a hand running lightly over my jaw and trailing down to my throat.

"…that I was throwing myself into danger?" I asked, and he snorted, hugging me tightly and pulling his knees up around me, cradling me to him.

"It happens whenever I'm not watching you," he replied into my hair. "Are you sure you're not hurt?" he asked gently, and I sighed.

"I…alright, I won't lie. I _did_ fall down and get scratched up a bit by an animal, but there was a healer – an Elf who knows magic – out in the woods who helped me," I said honestly, and Alistair let out a soft breath, shaking his head.

"As long as you're okay now. You're such a handful," he smiled gently.

"Aren't I?" I teased, and he pressed his forehead against the back of my head.

"Hmm…maybe I should check that healer's work. Just to be safe," Alistair murmured in a lower tone, and I grinned at his words, chuckling softly.

"Will you now?" I replied. I shivered as he moved his lips over my ear and down the back of my neck, the hairs standing up as he buried his nose in my hair, drinking in my scent as his hands moved over me. Once he was satisfied that I really was uninjured, we lay back down together, and I stretched myself out, cuddling up against him. Alistair chuckled softly, propping himself up on his side and sliding a hand under my head, using his forearm like a pillow. "You're beautiful, you know that?" he whispered, and I grinned.

"You're so sweet," I teased, kissing him lovingly and nuzzling his cheek. "And…I think so too – you are a beautiful, beautiful man," I whispered, kissing him again. He let out a soft breath, closing his eyes as I lay back down and massaged my fingers along his scalp, and he murmured something. "Mmm?" I asked, not having heard.

"Nails," he whispered, "use your nails," he repeated, and I grinned, scratching his hair as he sighed, laying his head down on my chest as I alternated between massaging the back of his neck, and scratching his scalp.

"Alistair," I murmured, and he gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement. "I'm…sorry for worrying you," I apologized, and he glanced up, a hint of amusement in his eyes at my nervous tone. He smiled softly, poking the tip of his nose against mine.

"I should be used to your recklessness by now," he chuckled, and I smiled.

"And _I_ shouldn't worry you so much," I mumbled, still apologetic. "I'll try to be more careful in the future," I promised him, and he closed his eyes, relaxing against me as I continued to scratch his scalp.

"Thank you," he replied, letting out a long sigh and smiling as he listened to my heartbeat.

oOo

Zevran had come out of his tent after a while, sitting by the smoldering remains of the fire and sharpening one of his daggers, listening to the soft sounds coming from the Grey Wardens' tent. He could hear them talking faintly, and wondered if Alistair was chiding Adeline for wandering off – Zevran had spotted her leave camp earlier that evening, and had warned Neria, once the hunter had come looking for her.

 _Speaking of,_ he thought, pausing as he looked over his knife, _Neria has not yet returned._ He had noticed that the Elf had become quite tense, ever since finding the Dalish clan. He thought that she would have been happy to see the familiar faces of a neighboring clan, but instead, she tended to shy away from the other Elves.

He glanced up as he saw Neria approach, her eyes flashing silver in the firelight, and a jolt of excitement went through Zevran – there it was again; the feeling of being hunted. He sheathed his knife and stood as Neria walked over to him, placing a hand on his chest. She leaned forward and drew him into a long, passionate kiss. Before Zevran could respond, she walked away from the fire, motioning for him to follow.

The two walked out of their camp, losing sight of the Dalish campfires as they entered the thick woodlands. Neria stopped in a small clearing, crossing her arms and closing her eyes; Zevran had never seen the formidable hunter look quite so frail before. As he stood behind her, Neria held up a hand, halting him before he came too close.

"Zevran…" she began softly, "do you…trust me?" she whispered. Zevran wondered what had brought this on, but nodded – in all honesty, she was one of the few people that he could honestly say he _did_ trust.

"Yes, I do," he replied gently, and Neria turned to face him.

"When I look at you, sometimes I can smell your fear," she murmured, and he raised an eyebrow. "Zevran, I'm…not entirely who you think I am," she continued. Before Zevran could ask what she meant, the woman knelt, getting on all fours and closing her eyes. Her body glowed white for a few moments as it began to swell and grow.

Zevran had to shield his eyes at the bright light, and when he opened them again, a great, golden-furred wolf stood before him, with crystal-blue eyes carrying unnatural intelligence. He stared at her, his body frozen for a moment with fear at the size of the she-wolf, and she sniffed the air, her ears flattening against her skull and her tail between her legs.

"You…are a werewolf?" Zevran asked, flinching at the loud snarl and spark of anger in Neria's eyes. She stared at him as he took a step back, and she lowered her head, whimpering apologetically as she looked at the ground. "Neria, forgive me, that was clumsy," Zevran apologized, slowly kneeling so that he was at her eye-level. The she-wolf took a slow step towards him, and the Elf held out his hands for her, motioning that she could come closer.

Zevran gently wrapped his arms around the wolf's neck, stroking her back as she sat down in front of him, gently licking his cheek. He closed his eyes as her body glowed again, and he found himself holding Neria in her Elf form. "I'm not a werewolf," she explained softly, "nor am I a shapechanger, like Morrigan." She placed a hand over her heart, looking down. "It is a gift, given to me by the Dread Wolf himself." Neria was quiet for a few moments, letting out a long sigh – she couldn't read Zevran's expression, but could only imagine his disgust at finding out what she was. "I'll understand if you want to…stop seeing one another," she murmured, staring at him as he started laughing. _Oh…oh no, I broke him,_ she thought, looking down as Zevran leaned back on his arms, grinning at her.

"Don't be absurd," he snorted, and she glanced back at him. "If I could handle finding out our leader is a demon, I can handle this," he explained, chuckling at her bewildered expression. He jostled her playfully with his legs as she sat between his knees.

"Are…are you sure?" she murmured, and he smirked.

"Neria, you are one of a kind – I would be a fool to let you go," he replied. She bit her lower lip, staring at the ground and sniffing as she shivered, fighting back relieved tears. Zevran ran a hand lightly down her side, and she whirled around, leaping on him and knocking him on his back, covering his face in frantic kisses.

"I'm never letting you go, either," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck as she lay against his chest, kissing his nose. "Make love to me, Zevran," she demanded, "make love to me until we're too exhausted to move." His eyes widened at the order, and a laugh escaped his lips.

Zevran grinned as he grabbed her waist, rolling her onto her back and sliding her skirt and leggings down. "As you wish, hermosa," he breathed, leaning over her and kissing her as she wrapped her arms around him.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Note:

Neria's power isn't very well explained within the course of the story; I don't want to awkwardly insert it somewhere – it'll just feel shoved in. Maybe I'll write a side story about it, but basically, Neria can turn into a giant wolf, and in her Elf form, her senses are enhanced – though they're not as good as they are in her wolf form – and she's much stronger than she looks.


	46. Chapter 46: The Trees

Chapter 46

The Trees

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

We rose early the next morning, and as I ate a light breakfast of bread and a bit of cheese, I wandered down towards the halla pens. I was curious about the creatures; I had never seen a halla before, although back home, we had a halla horn hanging on our mantle – my mother said it had been a souvenir from a journey of hers, but I had never been sure whether I should believe her or not. Seeing the halla herd up close now, though, and matching the shape of the horn, I realized that maybe she _had_ been telling me the truth.

The halla were beautiful, noble beasts – their fur was pure white, and they had long, wavy horns that curled back over their heads; the animals almost glowed in the sunlight, they were so bright. As I approached, I noticed an Elf woman with silvery hair inspecting a halla that she had separated from the others, a slightly troubled look on her face.

"Who comes–?!" she gasped as she heard me come up behind her, and I held up my hands in peace, apologizing for startling her. "Oh, I beg your pardon, stranger. I was so busy attending to the halla I did not hear your approach," the woman said. "I am Elora, the Master Herder of our clan," she introduced herself.

"I am Adeline," I replied politely. I turned to look at the halla, and it gave a baleful bleat, looking at me with milky eyes. "This is a halla? She's…beautiful…" I murmured, and Elora smiled slightly at my awed look.

"They are the noble beasts that pull our aravel – what humans call 'land-ships'. They are our companions and our guides," Elora explained, and the halla snorted softly, as if in agreement.

"Do you ride them?" I asked curiously, eyeing the creature's thin, spindly legs.

"We do ride the halla, but never with reins or a saddle," Elora replied. "It is the halla who decide where to lead us, and our privilege that they take our aravel with them. In return, it's the herder's job to speak to the halla and care for their needs. It is a bond of friendship and not servitude."

"So why have you separated this one from the others? Is she hurt?" I wondered; I couldn't see anything wrong with the animal…but then again, I'd never seen a halla before.

"I fear she may have been bitten during the werewolf attack. I have tried speaking with her, but she is too agitated for me to understand," Elora explained quietly, crossing her arms and looking at the halla with worry. "The curse would not affect her as it would us, but it would still be lethal. It may prove contagious to the other halla, as well. I can find no wound on her, but if she's truly ill, then…" Elora closed her eyes and let out a sigh, "then I will have to put her out of her misery. For her sake as well as that of the others."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked. I wasn't sure what I could do, but I still felt the need to offer.

"I don't know. Do you have any skills that might help her? If you do, I would be grateful," Elora said, taking a step back.

"Here, let me have a look at her," I murmured, walking slowly around the halla, looking her up and down. There wasn't any trace of injury, and she looked to be in perfect health. The only problem was that the animal was agitated, and she shuffled nervously under my inspection.

"And? What do you think?" Elora asked, once I returned to her side. I crossed my arms, shaking my head; I really couldn't figure out what was wrong.

"I can't find an injury. I'm not sure what's wrong," I sighed, and Elora nodded slightly, understanding.

"I am glad you attempted it, regardless," the Elf woman thanked me.

"You know more about halla than I do. Maybe I could calm her? Then maybe you could speak to her," I suggested, and Elora indicated that I was free to try. I walked up to the halla, holding out a hand and speaking gently. _Maybe I should try to Charm her a bit…_ I thought, looking deep into the halla's eyes and letting a trickle of Charm enter my words. "Hush my dear, everything will be alright. Please, let us know what's wrong…" I murmured. The halla snorted a bit, her ears flicking back for a moment as she sniffed my outstretched hand. She made a baleful sound and dipped her head slightly, her breathing slowing down as she walked over to Elora.

"Yes…that's it. She's calming down!" Elora gasped, reaching out as the halla allowed her to place a hand on its brow. "That's it, love. Be calm. Tell me what troubles you…" Elora murmured, closing her eyes and listening. "Ah, I see. It is her _life-mate_ who is sick, not her; he was bitten on the leg during the attack, and she fears greatly for him," Elora said, stepping back and looking into the halla pen. "I did not realize another halla was injured. This will allow me to prevent the sickness from spreading to the entire herd. Ma serannas – thank you. You have done my clan a great boon this day. I will always be grateful for your help," Elora thanked me graciously, and I smiled.

I bade her good day, returning to the main camp to prepare for our trip into the woods. I glanced over as I saw Gheyna sitting by a fire, eating breakfast, and I smiled slightly as I watched Cammen approach. Gheyna looked up at him, her eyes widening with surprise as she spotted the boar pelt in his arms.

"Gheyna! I have wonderful news! I finally have my pelt!" he exclaimed, handing it to her. Gheyna looked startled, glancing up at him with confusion.

"Really? It is marvelous, but…I thought you could not enter the forest?" Gheyna asked, and Cammen shrugged weakly, looking a bit nervous.

"It's alright, I asked him to guide me through the woods. We ran into a boar, and he killed it on his own," I explained, walking over to the pair of young Elves.

"So you're a true hunter now! What wonderful news! Now we can be together!" Gheyna grinned, standing and wrapping her arms around Cammen's neck as he pulled her into a hug.

"We are both very grateful for the part you've played in bringing us together," Cammen smiled.

"How marvelous you are! I am so happy!" Gheyna exclaimed, looking at me with shining eyes.

"Here…take this. It's been in my family for a very long time, but…I'd like you to have it. It's the very least we could do," Cammen added, handing me a storybook. I smiled at the two as Gheyna kissed him on the cheek, and I wished them well.

I returned to our section of the camp, pulling on my boots and my padded leather vest and gloves; I didn't want a repeat of yesterday, and although the leather was thin, the vest had slips of thin metal sewn within the sides and back – had asked Owen to make a few adjustments when we were back in Redcliffe.

As I bent over to close my pack, however, I suddenly felt a bit ill, covering my mouth as a wave of nausea washed over me, and I fell to my knees, breathing hard. I glanced up as Leliana walked over, giving me a questioning look. "Ugh…I'm not sure what that was," I admitted, taking a deep breath and a draught from my water-skin. "The bread didn't have mold on it, right?" I added, and she shook her head. She had an odd look in her eye, but when I asked her what was wrong, she just gave me a shrug and an innocent 'oh nothing'.

oooo

Our group headed towards the edge of camp, and an older Elf man nodded to me as I passed. He looked worried, coming over to greet me, so I stopped to listen.

"I greet you, stranger. It is good to see another Elf, even if you are not one of the wandering clans. I trust my people have not been too harsh in their treatment of you?" the man asked, and I shook my head.

"Oh, no, a little wariness is understandable," I replied gently. Oghren snorted, muttering something about a rash, and I tried not to make a face.

"It is not our intention to insult a Grey Warden. We are simply wrapped up in the plight of our hunters. It is easy to forget simple niceties at such a time," the Elf sighed apologetically. "I am Athras, a hunter. I understand you will search for the wolves in the Brecilian Forest. I would join you, but Zathrian has…forbidden me," Athras added, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Forbidden you?" I echoed, remembering what Gheyna and Cammen had said.

"We are banned from entering the forest now. I have…more cause than most, but I will not disobey my Keeper," Athras said, but I could see that he wanted to go with us very badly.

"Why do you want to enter the forest?" I asked curiously.

"I suppose there's no harm in telling a fellow Elf, but surely you have greater concerns than any problem of mine, no?"

"Indeed, but that will not stop her from insisting upon aiding you," Morrigan remarked, and I shrugged, indicating that her words were true…despite their rather harsh delivery.

"Well, perhaps you could help me with it. I would certainly appreciate anything you could do," Athras relented. "My wife, Danyla, and I both fought the werewolves in the ambush. She was injured so gravely the curse spread rapidly in her. Zathrian fought hard to ease her pain, but there was little he could do," Athras explained, his eyes filled with pain at the memory. "And though he says that Danyla is dead, he will not let me see her…her body. I am beginning to believe she became a werewolf, and that it is being kept from me so I do not go chasing after her…" he trailed off, shaking his head slightly.

"I would not allow any to keep me from my goal," Sten remarked.

"Going out there could cause another attack, and I wish no harm upon my clan," Athras explained, and Sten thought on his words for a moment, nodding slightly.

"This I understand. To hold the group over the individual is worthy. An unexpected trait in your kind," he remarked, and I tried not to roll my eyes at the backhanded compliment.

"If I could just…know if Danyla is alive, or what happened to her…then I could be at peace," Athras murmured sadly, looking out towards the woods.

"I'll try to find her," I offered, and Athras gave a small smile at my words.

"I have an amulet made by our craftsmen. It's not much but I would be happy to give it to you in return for any news," he thanked me watching our group as we headed out.

oooo

The Brecilian looked much more welcoming in the daytime; soft sunlight streamed through the trees, casting everything in warm green and gold as the sun dapples played across the mossy ground. Cool mists from the many waterfalls moistened the air, giving everything a fresh, vibrant feel. The beauty was lost on me, however, as I felt another wave of nausea rush over me, and I tried to take slow, deep breaths without the others noticing.

Unfortunately, Zevran seemed to have picked up on my abnormal behavior, quickening his pace until he walked beside me, looking me over carefully. "I must say, you look rather pale, my dear," he remarked carefully, and I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, and not like I was about to vomit.

"Hmm? Probably just…tired," I replied, and a sly look came across the Elf's face as he cast a quick glance back at Alistair, who was talking to Olan as the dog sniffed at the surroundings.

"Oh? I suppose that's true. It didn't sound like you got much rest last night, the way you were serenading us," Zevran smirked, and I felt my eyes widen as I blushed scarlet.*

"Zevran!" I exclaimed, and he laughed at my flustered expression as I lightly batted his shoulder with the back of my hand. Leliana came over, smiling slightly as she saw my face.

"You know, I was thinking…" she began, and I almost dreaded whatever she was going to say. "You and Alistair have been…intimate for some time. And it _has_ been a few months since you started. Perhaps you are suffering morning sickness?" she suggested, and I stared at her.

"Oh, you're joking," I said with disbelief. "You think I'm _pregnant?_ " I asked in a hushed tone, and she shrugged.

"It is a possibility, no?" she asked, and I shook my head.

"No, actually, it's not," I snorted, and she gave me an odd look. "Grey Wardens can't _have_ children. At least, not with each other," I explained. "I only had my cycle once after the Joining, and then it just stopped altogether," I recalled, more to myself than her. "But Maker's breath, are we _really_ talking about this?" I groaned, running a hand over my forehead.

"Well, you look quite sick," Leliana continued, and I shrugged.

"Maybe I ate something weird," I tried, but the two didn't seem to buy the excuse. "Come on, let's just move on," I added hurriedly.

"Adeline, are you alright?" Jowan asked, walking over once the others had retreated a bit, and I almost groaned at the continued barrage of questions.

"I'm _fine_ Jowan," I insisted, trying not to growl at him, and he looked at me doubtfully.

"It's just that you've been giving off a strange energy since yesterday," he murmured, looking at me with concern. "It's like…you're mana is imbalanced." I let out a low sigh, shaking my head.

"I'll be alright, Jowan. I just had a late night, okay?" I assured him. He didn't look convinced, but nodded, deciding not to bother me.

We walked through the thick trees for another few minutes without incident, and I froze, sensing darkspawn. "Darkspawn ahead!" I warned, and everyone got set. "Um…two hurlocks, five genlocks, three shrieks and…two…uh…" I closed my eyes as I sensed the different types of darkspawn, trialing off as I sensed a kind I didn't recognize.

"Blight wolves," Alistair said, "two blight wolves. I've only ever seen a couple before now," he added, and I nodded. Oghren and Sten went left and right as Alistair and I charged head-on, distracting the darkspawn and drawing attention to ourselves so that the pair of warriors could flank the beasts. Our archers fell back, supporting us with arrows, and Wynne cast a flame spell on our blades as Jowan cast a spell that weakened the darkspawn to fire magic, Morrigan creating a mass paralysis spell to stun the creatures – they really made it too easy for us.

We finished off the last of the darkspawn and continued. My breathing was irregular – the battle had taken more out of me than I had anticipated, and a thought crept into my head. _What are the symptoms of the curse? The Elves in camp had it for a while…but what if…what if Cammen is right? What if Swiftrunner's bite gave me the curse?_

oOo

As the group continued traveling through the woods, fanning out a bit as they searched for signs of Witherfang, the others noticed that Adeline wasn't looking herself. Her breathing was elevated and irregular, and she looked pale, and almost feverish. Leliana approached the Elf with concern in her eyes, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Adeline, are you _sure_ you're alright?" the bard asked again, and Adeline glared at the woodlands, not looking her in the eyes.

" _Yes_. Quit _bothering_ me," the girl insisted, and the others glanced over, surprised by the shortness in her tone.

"Adeline…" Neria began, walking over as well, and Adeline let out a loud groan, glowering at the two.

"Maker's _breath_ will you shut _up?_ I'm _fine!_ Sodding mother of _Andraste,_ you people are such _nags_ …" she almost snarled, whirling around and stalking further into the trees, away from the main group. The others watched in confusion, and began talking amongst themselves, wondering what had happened.

"Do you know what's wrong?" Katja asked, glancing at Alistair, who shrugged, looking in the direction Adeline had gone with concern.

"I don't know," he admitted. "She…told me she went out to the woods last night," he added softly, and Wynne pursed her lips.

"You do not think she was…bitten by a werewolf, do you?" the elderly mage asked, and he sighed.

"I don't know. She told me that she ran into some wild animals…but I think that's her way of 'not telling the whole truth', as she puts it," Alistair murmured.

"You did not see any bite marks on her last night?" Zevran asked, and Alistair shook his head.

"No, I didn't…" he trailed off as he saw the smug look on the assassin's face. "Wait. How do you…? Ugh, never mind, I don't want to ask," he muttered. "But she said she met a healer out in the woods," he added.

"A healer? Outside of the Dalish camp?" Wynne echoed, an odd note in her tone.

"Yes. She said he was an Elf mage, but she didn't mention a name," Alistair replied. Wynne stared at him, looking out towards the trees as her jaw tightened. _No…it would be too much to hope for…_ she thought with a small sigh.

Neria remained silent through the exchange, but began to worry – what if Adeline had caught the curse? She was certainly showing some of the early symptoms of it…but Neria would keep her word. They were trying to break this curse, either way, and decided that unless the situation became life-threatening, she would keep quiet.

They regrouped, heading through the brush and finding Adeline waiting for them by a path lined with tall, oddly-shaped trees. "Took you gossips long enough," she grunted brusquely, turning around before they could say anything. She led them down a winding path, stopping as they came to a clearing with a tall, golden-leafed tree. Adeline cocked her head, looking at it oddly and making a face as her saber began humming faintly at her side. Alistair glanced down at his own longsword – it was humming gently as well, and he recalled what Adeline had told him about her blade detecting spirits and undead.

"Hey," Adeline said, indicating the tree. "Doesn't that look like a person?" she asked.

She could feel a slow, steady pulse of magic coming from the tree, and as she spoke, it seemed to shudder, the leaves rustling as the tree unfolded itself into a giant, humanoid creature. "Maker's breath…" Jowan whispered, staring up at the tree.

"Whoa, does this happen often in the woods?" Katja asked, gripping her blade as the tree's 'face' turned slowly about, as if looking at them all.

"Uh…not generally, no," Neria murmured a reply.

"Hrrrrm…" the creature made a sound low in its trunk, a combination of breath and creaking branches. "What manner of beast be thee that comes before this elder tree?" it asked, and Adeline tensed as it turned its 'face' to her.

"You're…not going to attack us, are you?" she asked, and the tree's leaves rustled a bit as it shook its great head.

"Ah, thou speakest of the others, how filled they are with hate? I apologize on their behalf, they cannot control their fate," the tree apologized, and Adeline raised an eyebrow at the rhyming. "Allow me a moment to welcome thee. I am called the Grand Oak, sometimes the Elder Tree."

"It…rhymes?" Morrigan asked, her tone almost amused. "'Tis a rhyming tree. One can only imagine what manner of spirit is involved here," she remarked, crossing her arms.

"The world is…certainly full of marvelous, unexpected creations. Each day we see something that we never thought possible," Wynne murmured, her eyes wide with awe as she looked up at the Grand Oak.

"And unless thou thinkst it far too soon, might I ask of thee a boon?" the Elder Tree asked, and Adeline cocked her head.

"Why…do you speak in rhymes?" she asked curiously, and the tree creaked a bit as it leaned towards the Elf.

"I do not know. Why dost thou not?" the tree countered. "Thy words seem plain, a mundane lot. Perhaps a poet's soul's in me… Does that make me a poet tree?" the creaking of wood was mixed with a low, vibrating sound that Adeline assumed was laughter.

Despite her aggravation, and the throbbing pain in her head, she couldn't help but smile. "Hah, cute," she chuckled softly, and the tree's leaves rustled, pleased by her amusement.

"It was but a simple jest, a jibe to entertain my guest," it replied.

"What's this boon you mentioned?" Adeline asked.

"I have but one desire, to solve a matter very dire: as I slept one early morn, a thief did come and steal an acorn," the Elder Tree explained.

"An acorn?" Leliana asked, and the tree nodded slowly.

"All I have is my being, my seed. Without it I am alone indeed," the tree replied. "I cannot go and seek it out; yet I shall die if left without."

"Where would we find this thief?" Alistair asked, and the tree's branches creaked as it turned to face him.

"It was stolen by a human man, deep within these woods he ran. Would'st that I could travel there, I'd teach the fool to soon beware!" the Grand Oak said, sounding almost angry.

"If we helped you, what would you offer in return?" Morrigan asked, and Adeline glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Perhaps he might promise us safe passage through the forest," the witch murmured, and Adeline nodded in understanding.

"Hrrrrrm…" the tree sighed, as if thinking. "My wooden skin has some magic, see, and part of it I can give to thee," the Grand Oak offered.

"Might you…know where to find Witherfang?" Neria asked, and the tree's leaves rustled as its branches creaked, turning towards her.

"In the center of the forest the weres do dwell, or so go the tales my fellows tell. But they cannot be followed there; the forest doth protect the weres," the tree explained.

"Why do the trees protect them?" Wynne asked, and the tree let out a rumbling sound.

"Perhaps weres use magic to command the trees? All I know is they move as they please," it replied.

"Is there any other way to get to the center of the forest?" Adeline asked.

"Perform the boon as I ask and I shall reward thee for the task," the tree promised.

"Very well, we'll help find your acorn," Adeline agreed, and the Grand Oak nodded slowly.

"Go to the east to find this man. I shall await, do what thou can," the tree said.

Adeline nodded to the tree, but paused, her brow furrowed slightly. "Grand Oak…what's over there?" she asked, pointing to a path behind the tree – she could feel a crackling, negative energy coming from that direction.

"I know not for sure what lies over there, but I sense dark spirits – I bid you, beware," the tree warned, and Adeline let out a soft breath.

"Very well. Thank you," she nodded, heading back up the path with the others.

oooo

The deeper they traveled into the woods, the worse Adeline looked. Her skin was pale, but her face was flushed, and she was shivering and breathing hard. "Adeline," Alistair said sternly, walking up behind her. She turned slightly to look at him before glancing away – the guilty look on her face was all the answer he needed. "Adeline, stop – you need to rest," he added, his tone softening as he reached out a hand.

Adeline jumped, flinching away from him, and Alistair stared at her in surprise. "…s-sorry," Adeline mumbled, crossing her arms as she shivered. "Please don't…get too c-close," she whispered, continuing along the wooded trail. She looked so small and frail, and Alistair almost leapt forward as she staggered, catching herself on a tree. He couldn't take it any longer – he walked over to her, about to ask her outright if she had been bitten last night, when a low snarl made the pair freeze mid-stride.

A werewolf was lying on the ground nearby among the bushes, making low, pained wheezes that sound almost like sobs. It grunted and coughed, and Adeline slowly placed a hand on her knife, although she didn't draw the weapon.

"P-please…help… listen…" the werewolf was speaking, the voice vaguely female as she pleaded to Adeline and Alistair. "I am not…the mindless beast I appear to be…"

Adeline approached very slowly, ignoring Alistair's sound of alarm, and she knelt in front of the werewolf. "What happened to you?" she asked gently, and the werewolf sat up slowly, gasping and grunting, as if she could barely speak. Neria walked a ways behind the group, sniffing at the air – she wanted to make sure the werewolves weren't nearby, using this one as bait for a trap.

"They…I am cursed, turned into this creature. The curse, it…it burns in me!" the werewolf sobbed, sniffing and snorting as she clawed at the ground. "I…fled into the forest. The werewolves, they…took me in. But I had to return. I had to!"

"Careful. These werewolves might have laid a trap for us, or something. You never know," Alistair cautioned as he slowly knelt as well. The others in the group had caught up by now, and were watching the scene warily, their hands resting on their weapons.

"You are…an Elf, but not one of the Dalish," the werewolf choked out as she looked at Adeline with pain-blurred eyes. "I was, until my…change. Have you…seen my clan?"

"Your keeper, Zathrian, is the one who sent us here," Neria said gently from where she stood nearby, her eyes sad as she heard that the werewolf had been a Dalish Elf.

"The Keeper sent you? Then…you seek Witherfang," the werewolf breathed.

"I do. Have you seen him?" Adeline asked, and the werewolf struggled into a sitting position.

"I have, but…it is not what you think," she replied, gritting her teeth and shuddering as a wave of pain washed through her. "But…there is no time to explain. You must listen…" she groaned. "My name is Danyla. My husband…he is called Athras. Please, you must…bring him a message…"

"Oh, the poor woman! She's in such pain!" Leliana gasped, her eyes pitying as Danyla produced an old silk scarf from nearby, handing it to Adeline.

"The scarf I wear…bring it to him. Tell him I love him. Tell him…I am dead and with the gods. I beg you…" Danyla pleaded, and Adeline looked at the scarf sadly.

"I spoke to Athras. He worries about you," Adeline murmured, and Danyla sighed.

"I want him to be at peace…" she whispered through the pain. "He is a good man. Please do not…let him suffer thinking of me. Ah, the pain!" she cried, her fur bristling. "The curse…is fire in my blood! Please! End it for me! End it quickly!" the werewolf snarled, backing away as her fur puffed out, her shoulders tense.

"There must be some way to heal you!" Adeline exclaimed.

"Magic…will not work against…the curse! Ahh! You must end it!" Danyla roared, her eyes glazing over as she shook her head. "No! No! I…rrrRRRRAAAGGHHHH!" The werewolf shrieked as she lost control, and Adeline drew her blades as the creature leapt at her.

Before she could move, she was shoved aside, hearing the loud scraping of teeth and claws against metal as Alistair blocked the werewolf's vicious attack with his shield. Danyla nearly tore his shield off as she bit into his shoulder, holding his shield down with one arm as she shrugged off Leliana's and Neria's arrows. Alistair swung his fist, hitting the werewolf hard across the jaw with an armored gauntlet, hearing her let out a yelp. The others raised their weapons and moved towards her, and Danyla let out a low growl, her ears flattening against her skull.

Alistair braced himself as he shakily raised his shield, gritting his teeth as the werewolf snarled, and she let out a low bark, disappearing into the trees as she saw she was outnumbered twelve to one. He let out a long sigh of relief once she was gone, turning to face Adeline, who was staring off in the direction the werewolf had gone. "Adeline, are you–"

Alistair was cut off as she flung her arms around him, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Don't you _ever_ do that again!" she gasped, and he stared at her. "Look, now you're hurt," she added, unbuckling his shield before he could protest. "Wynne, he's hurt."

"Adeline–"

"Shh," Adeline said, her fingers moving quickly over the buckles on his pauldron – Danyla had bitten deep enough to pierce into the metal and tear through his hauberk.

"This is why people wear armor," Alistair murmured as she tugged at the hauberk, finding his skin bruised, but unbroken. She sighed with relief, and Alistair looked at her oddly as her shoulders slumped, and she lay her forehead against his chest. "Do you…always get this worked up when I'm hurt?" he asked softly, and she glanced up at him as she helped strap his armor back into place.

"…yes," she admitted. "But I'm usually better at keeping my emotions under wraps," she added. "To confirm everyone's suspicions – yes, I was bitten by a werewolf," Adeline said, looking down. "I didn't think I had actually _caught_ the curse until a bit…earlier…though…" she sighed, placing a hand on her forehead as her vision swam, and the world began spinning around her.

Alistair caught her as she suddenly toppled forward, her eyes rolling back in her head, and he stared at Wynne. The healer came over as he set her down on the ground, inspecting the girl with magic. "Should we…prepare a camp for the night?" Zevran asked, and Alistair nodded, watching Adeline with worry as Wynne closed her eyes, trying to soothe the curse.

oOo

I came-to a while later, blinking and looking around at the camp we had set up for the night. Alistair was sitting nearby, and he glanced over as he heard me stir. "Feeling a little better?" he asked softly as he moved closer, and I nodded, trying to sit up. "Try not to move too much – you were very feverish earlier," he added, gently pushing my shoulders down.

I looked at his worried face and let out a long sigh, putting my hand over my forehead. "I need to stop doing this to you," I murmured. "You'll get grey hairs before you're thirty."

He smiled slightly, settling down next to me and propping himself up on his elbow, placing his fingers gently on my cheek as I looked at him. "At least you _admit_ that you're reckless," he remarked, and I placed my hand over his. His smile faded, and his eyes became serious. "Adeline," he began, and I nodded, "I want you to promise me something."

"That…depends on the promise, ma vhenan," I replied, and he sighed. He ran his thumb gently across my jaw, looking steadily into my eyes.

"I want you to promise me that you won't needlessly throw yourself into danger," Alistair murmured, his eyes sad. "Every time I see you get hurt…it scares me," he admitted. "I'm…afraid of losing you. I know we face danger every day, but you leap into it like you have nothing to lose," he whispered, his voice strained, and I stared up at him.

"No, Alistair, I _do_ have something to lose," I replied, slowly raising myself so that I was up on my elbow. "I have people that I want to protect," I said, and he sighed, leaning over and pressing his forehead against mine.

"Adeline, please," he murmured, "using yourself as a meat-shield is different from protecting." I smirked at his words, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Oh, is that the technical term? 'Meat-shield'?" I asked, and he chuckled, smiling helplessly at me. I placed my hand on his cheek, letting out a long sigh as I nodded. "But…alright. I agree," I added. "I promise that I won't put myself in unnecessary danger if I can help it," I vowed, and Alistair smiled.

"Good," he sighed, patting my shoulder gently. "We should get some rest – we'll need to find the Grand Oak's acorn tomorrow," he added, sliding his arm under my head as we lay down, his other arm resting gently on my side.

oooo

The next morning, we headed deeper into the woods, following winding trails and running into herds of wild halla. The creatures let out baleful bleats as they saw us, but were very docile, watching us with watery eyes as we moved through the trees. Neria and Katja stopped by a large, fallen tree with oddly-colored, bluish bark, making note of the nearby landscape.

"…what are you doing?" I asked, walking over. I felt much better after a night's rest – I didn't feel nauseated, and I had settled my temper down.

"We're making note of the ironbark's location," Neria explained, writing down notes in her small field-journal. I raised an eyebrow at Katja, who was looking over the wood with a critical eye.

"A craftsman, Master Varathorn, asked us if we could collect ironbark wood," she explained, and I nodded slightly.

"Alright. Just remind me to bring us back this way once we're done with Witherfang," I replied. As we headed further north, we came to a large ruin with grave-markers scattered about; I didn't like the feeling of the place, and my saber hummed a soft warning.

"The Veil is thin here," Morrigan remarked as she walked among the headstones, her eyes moving slowly over the ruins.

"And that means…?" Zevran asked, looking around warily, his hands resting on his weapons.

"Magic," Sten muttered.

"Oh come on, Sten," I chuckled, and the Qunari glanced over at me, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you in a different forest than I am? One that isn't haunted and cursed?" he asked, and I made a face.

"Magic didn't necessarily do all this," I argued as the others investigated closer to the ruins.

"You know of something else that brings spirits and curses into this world?" he countered, and I rolled my eyes.

"Well, we Elves have all sorts of strange powers," I teased, and he snorted.

"Being easily conquered does not constitute a 'power'," he replied, and I let out a set-upon moan.

"Ow, ouch, Sten, that _hurts_. You've stabbed me right in the _pride!_ " I gasped dramatically, pausing as I spotted something shining in the grass nearby. I picked up a silver ring, turning it over in my hands and pocketing it. "So where does all this venom come from, anyway?" I asked him, and the Qunari let out a soft sigh at my pestering.

"Experience," he replied, and I raised an eyebrow. "My home has been under attack by the mage-lords of Tevinter for all my lifetime. I have seen what magic is and what it does," he explained, and I pursed my lips.

"But…you…don't have a problem with me?" I asked, and he looked at me oddly. "Because I'm…you know…" I shrugged, making a vague waving motion with my hand.

"You are not a danger," he replied simply. "If you have held on to your honor, does it matter that I believe that mages and others of your kind have not? You are not responsible for them," he added, and I pursed my lips. "There is no use talking of this. We should move on," he added, and I shook my head helplessly.

"Alright, Sten," I chuckled. Once we had finished searching around the ruins for any traces of the Elder Tree's acorn thief, we continued up a winding path, pushing aside brush and climbing over more ruins. Neria paused as she spotted broken pillars with faded, weathered carvings, murmuring something about the swirling writing being Elvish.

"Hmm…there's something up ahead," Jowan remarked as we moved through the bushes, and I nodded – I could sense two sources of powerful magic further up the path.

"Stay on your guard, everyone – there're mages nearby," I warned, and the others nodded, keeping their hands near their weapons. We came to a small clearing among the trees, near the ruins of a stone arch, and I spotted a familiar, red-haired Elf sitting by a circle of stones, tossing dirt over the remains of a cook fire to put out the embers.

He glanced up at our approach, standing and dusting himself off as he looked at us, his eyes stopping at my face as he recognized me. "Friends, turn back, please," he warned. "These woods are a danger to those who do not know the paths–"

"Aneirin…?" Wynne stared at the man with shock on her face, and I jumped – _this_ was the same Aneirin she had told me about?

"Wait, I…I remember your face…" Aneirin murmured as he looked at Wynne, placing a hand on his chin. "But younger, more impulsive, stern…Wynne?" he asked, and the old woman nodded slowly, placing a hand over her mouth as her eyes misted over.

"I thought they had killed you…" she breathed, and Aneirin sighed, crossing his arms.

"They very nearly did," he replied softly. "The Templars found me while I was searching for the Dalish… They ran me through and left me for dead." Wynne's eyes were pained as she looked at the Elf man, and she slowly shook her head.

"I brought this on you. Oh, I was a dreadful mentor, harsh and impatient…" she murmured. "I am sorry for the way I treated you," she apologized, bowing her head.

"I have put that behind me and you should too," Aneirin said, smiling sadly at his old mentor. "I didn't fit in with the Templars and your Chantry…my path lay elsewhere."

"Irving is a reasonable man. He will find some way for you to return. The Circle needs new blood. It needs to change," Wynne argued, and Aneirin smiled sadly at her.

"I have fond memories of Irving. He was always kind to me," the Elf replied. "I will consider your proposal, and perhaps I will speak with Irving. However, I promise nothing," he added. He walked over to Wynne and gently took her hands, smiling at his mentor. "Now, I am sure you have much to do. You should be on your way," he added, patting the back of her hand.

"We could stay longer, if you want, Wynne," I offered, glancing between the two, but Wynne simply sighed, shaking her head as she smiled.

"No, we've spent enough time on my personal affairs. It is time for us to move on," she said softly.

"Look at this," Aneirin said, taking an amulet from around his neck. It was made of amber, with a small flower frozen in the center. "It is the hardened sap of a tree native to this forest. It's been something of a lucky charm for me, and now I want you to have it," he handed the charm to Wynne, who smiled as she placed it around her neck.

"Very well. I am grateful," she bowed her head. "May your gods smile on you, Aneirin."

"And on you," the Elf mage replied. He smiled at Wynne and held up a hand, his form shimmering and flashing as he turned into a cardinal, flitting away through the trees. Wynne watched him go and let out a long breath, a small, relieved smile on her face as she placed a hand over the amulet, the amber resting over her heart.

We continued on along the path as it grew steeper, and the forest was dotted more and more with ruins. The second source of magic was stronger than Aneirin's, but more wild and unpredictable. I looked around a small clearing with the remains of a campfire, holding up a hand as I sensed the building Fade energy, like the pressure that builds before lightning strikes. "Something approaches," Morrigan warned, and we braced ourselves as a bright light flashed in the center of the clearing, and a resounding boom and shockwave threw us backwards. I hurried to my feet, blinking in surprise as my vision cleared.

In the center of the clearing was a filthy, ragged little hermit of a man with a knotted beard and hair almost down to his ribs, strewn with twigs and moss. His clothing was covered in holes, and his feet were bare as he walked about, looked around with wide, staring eyes. The fire had lit itself upon his arrival, and a tree stump had appeared out of thin air, upon which the old man sat down, looking at us as we got to our feet.

"Oh dear, oh dear! A werewolf and a spirit, in one," he observed as he stared at me, waving his hand and producing a lit pipe from the air, sticking it between his teeth and grinning at me, "what are the woods coming to?" he clucked his tongue.

"Wait, are you the one who took the Grand Oak's acorn?" I asked – I could sense a faint pulse coming from the tree stump, recognizing a trace of magic that felt similar to the Elder Tree's. The old man chuckled, cocking his head like a bird as he stroked his knotted beard.

"Mayhap I did and mayhap I didn't!" he chortled, pointing towards me with the tip of his pipe.  
"Have you come to claim it back? Oh, what fun!" he added, standing from his spot on the stump. "But we are getting ahead of ourselves already. Ask a question and you'll get a question, but give an answer and you'll receive the same! Oh, I do so love to trade!" he was almost giddy with excitement, tossing his pipe absently over his shoulder; it vanished in a puff of smoke before it hit the ground.

"You…want me to answer a question?" I asked oddly, looking at the madman warily.

"Wouldn't I have to ask you a question first?" the man replied.

"Isn't that a question?" I argued.

"Would you know a question if it was asked?" he countered, and I crossed my arms.

"Are you mocking me?" I asked.

"I don't know. Are you mocking me?" he replied, and I snorted, pinching the bridge of my nose – we weren't getting anywhere like this.

"We're going in circles now," I sighed, and the man stomped impatiently, shaking his head furiously at me.

" _NO!_ That is not a question! And if it be an answer, it be an answer to a question I've not asked! Have you no sense for the rules?" he exclaimed, and I stared at him in bewilderment, glancing at the others and making a face.

"Be cautious," Morrigan warned. "This is no ordinary madman. He has magic…I can sense it. Powerful magic."

"He is a mage…driven mad, perhaps, but still powerful," Wynne agreed, and the old man glared at the two as they spoke, putting his hands on his hips.

"No fair bringing mages to a guessing game! Will you play by the rules or not?" he demanded, glowering at me, and I sighed, nodding.

"Then…would you like to ask me a question?" I asked, and the man chuckled, returning to good humor as he placed a hand over his heart.

"May I? Oh, yes, I think I might!" he smiled through his beard. He tapped his temple, looking thoughtful for a few moments. "Now…what shall be the first?" he mused, cocking his head. "Oh yes! What is your name?" he asked.

"Adeline," I answered simply, and he clapped his hands excitedly.

"A-ha! So you claim! _They_ sent you, didn't they?" he gasped, pointing at me with an accusatory finger. "But you're too tricky, and you're trying to fool me! Well, I'm on to you! Just so you know," he added, crossing his arms. "But it is your turn to ask now. Ask! _Ask_ away! I _dare_ you!" he cried, and I tried not to make a face as he nearly jumped around.

"Do you have the Grand Oak's acorn?" I asked, and he narrowed his eyes.

"Ahhhhhh…suddenly it all becomes clear," he murmured, placing a hand on the tip of his beard as he watched me, his eyes moving slowly over our group. "You here, that talking tree there, it all makes sense now. As a matter of fact, yes, I _do_ have that tree's acorn. I stole it and it was easy – silly tree should have locked it up tighter!" he cackled, clapping his hands. "If you want it, you'll have to trade me for it. And nothing from that silly _tree_ …no leaves or _branches_ or anything," he added. "But that's all I have to say about that. An answer for an answer, there you go!"

I glanced at the others, who were watching the man warily. _I guess…I'll have to ask him what he'd want to trade for the acorn, then? Maybe he'll take that ring I found,_ I thought, nodding to the man. "Do you want to ask me another question?" I asked, and he grinned.

"May I? Oh, yes, I think I might!" he replied, sitting back down on the tree stump and looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes. "Hmmm… What…is your quest?"

"I seek to end the Blight," I answered, and he knitted his fingers together, looking at me with suspicion.

"Hmmm. So you say. Fiendishly clever of you to maintain this facade for so long. But I will see through it yet! Mark my words!" he promised, wagging a finger at me. "But it is your turn to ask now. Ask away! I dare you!" he demanded, and I cocked my head.

"Would you be willing to trade the Grand Oak's acorn for something?" I asked, and he looked thoughtful for a few moments.

"Provided you have something interesting in return," he replied.

"How about this ring I found in the woods?" I offered, pulling the ring from my pocket and showing it to him. His eyes flashed as the ring shone in the sunlight, and he leaned forward a bit.

"Eh? I once had a ring like that. This one's shiny, still," he murmured, more to himself than to me. "Yes, I'll take it. Give me that!" he demanded, and I handed him the ring. He knelt in front of the tree stump, sticking his arm into a hole in the base and rummaging around, pulling out a golden acorn and tossing it to me. "There! Now that's done. What else have you got on your agenda, hmm?" he asked, watching me suspiciously as I tucked the acorn gently away.

I wondered what the Grand Oak had meant earlier, about how the trees were protecting the werewolves, and how we could enter the forest's center with his magic. "Would you like to ask another question?" I asked the man, and his eyes flashed.

"May I? What now… Hmmm…" he looked thoughtful. "What…is your favorite color?" he asked, and I raised an eyebrow. _What kind of question is that?_

"…blue?" I replied, glancing back at the others, who shrugged.

"A- _ha!_ I knew that!" the madman exclaimed. "Or did I? I forget now," he muttered, stroking his beard and picking out some twigs. "But it is your turn to ask now. Ask! Ask away!" he added, looking at me expectantly.

"How do I enter the center of the forest?" I asked, and the hermit chuckled, crossing his arms and pointing towards the west with his chin. I could see, just through the trees, the tip of a tall, stone structure – another ruin, probably.

"It's where the wolfmen have their lair, but the trees will block the path," he explained, seeming almost lucid as he spoke. "There's a way to fool the trees, of course. Trees are thick, wooden things, after all. Easily fooled if you know how."

"And you know how, don't you?" Alistair asked, following my gaze towards the distant ruins.

"Oh my, now that's quite a question," the old man clucked his tongue, turning his red-rimmed gaze on Alistair. "I think that answer deserves something a little extra first, don't you?"

"So…you want to ask _me_ something?" Alistair guessed, and the hermit, nodded, sitting back down on his tree stump and putting his hands on his knees.

"Hehe…smart lad," he chuckled. "Well then, what…is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?" the hermit asked, and I felt my eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

 _The sod kind of question is that?_ I thought, glancing at Alistair. He pursed his lips, stroking his goatee in thought as he closed his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Alistair asked finally, "A Ferelden or an Antivan swallow?"

The hermit started, staring at him with wide eyes "I…I don't know…" he admitted, and Alistair cocked his head.

"Well I can't very well answer a question when it's so poorly formed, now can I?" he asked, and I raised an eyebrow, biting back a smile.

"Pah! Fine," the hermit glared at him. "The secret to getting by the trees…and listen close, now…is to make them think you're one of the wolfmen!" the man cackled, slapping his knee with mirth. "Isn't that a grand idea? _She_ shouldn't have much of a problem," he continued, indicating me, "but the rest of you they'll see coming from a league away."

"Wait, make them think we're werewolves? _How?_ " Katja asked, and the hermit looked her over, crossing his arms.

"Oh, I know what you're thinking: 'I'm short, and my teeth aren't _nearly_ sharp enough for anyone to mistake me as a wolfman!' So true!" he replied, and Katja glowered at him. "I have the solution to that! I can make you smell like a wolfman! Enough like one to fool some stupid tree. And you only need to bring me a werewolf skin," he explained.

"Do we each need a skin of our own?" Neria asked, and the hermit scoffed, as if it were the simplest thing.

"No, no, no. Simply one will do, though it will be used up when I cast the spell. If you need it cast again afterwards, naturally I'll need a new skin," he replied. _I…don't really want to put anyone in danger with whatever magic he knows,_ I thought, glancing at the others and giving a small shake of my head. They looked relieved, and I smiled slightly – they didn't think it was a good idea either, it seemed.

"Um…we'll _think_ about it," I said to the old man, who shrugged, waving a hand and making another pipe appear, taking a long drag from it and blowing out smoke shaped like a swallow.

"Good, you do that. Time to move on!" he replied absently, waving us off with a shooing motion. We headed back down the path we came; once the hermit was out of sight, we collectively let out a sigh of relief.

"Who do you think that was?" Leliana murmured, glancing over her shoulder as we moved through the graveyard, as if afraid that the hermit would be following us.

"An old maleficar, driven to madness," Jowan replied, shaking his head. "Maker's breath, his fear of the Templars drove him crazy," he mumbled, placing his fingers on his chin and looking disturbed at the thought.

I glanced up at Alistair as we walked, and he smiled slightly at the curious look on my face. "So how do you know so much about swallows, anyway?" I asked, and he chuckled.

"Well, you have to know these things when you're going to be king, you know," he replied in a very matter-of-fact tone, and I smiled.

"…it is a wonder Ferelden has not yet been re-conquered by Orlais," I heard Sten mutter behind us, and Alistair rolled his eyes at the Qunari.

oooo

We returned to the Grand Oak by sunset, the forest painted orange and gold as the light streamed through the trees. The Elder Tree shuddered and creaked at our approach, and it turned its 'face' towards me, looming over us. "My acorn is still gone, so I pray to thee…hast thou any news for me?" the tree asked, and I opened my pack, taking out the golden acorn and holding it out.

"Is this your acorn?" I asked, and the tree creaked as it reached out with a skeletal 'hand', plucking the acorn gently from my fingers and turning it over. The orange and gold leaves on the Grand Oak's back rustled excitedly, and the tree tucked the acorn away in its trunk.

"My joy soars to new heights indeed! I am reunited with my seed! As I promised, here it be. I hope its magic pleases thee. Keep this branch of mine with thee, and pass throughout the forest free," the tree said, its branches creaking as it lowered a long stick down to me. It was thrumming with energy, and I could feel a soft pulse through my fingertips, as if it had a heartbeat. "I wish thee well, my mortal friend. Thou brought my sadness to an end. May the sunlight find you, thy days be long, thy winters kind, and thy roots be strong," the Grand Oak added.

We spent the night beneath the Elder Tree's branches, not daring to light a fire near its roots. I listened intently in the darkness as I heard howls echo in the distance, and Olan let out a low rumble in his throat, although he didn't stand from his spot by Katja. Morrigan was looking over the heartwood staff with interest, sitting near Jowan as he inspected a blood sample he had taken from me earlier, comparing it with a sample he had taken in the Dalish camp – he wanted to see if the werewolf's curse affected me differently than the Dalish Elves.

"So this Witherfang…" Neria murmured as she sat down next to me, "when we find him, are you going to kill him?" she asked, and I let out a small sigh.

"I…don't know," I replied. "The werewolves… _talk_. They're sentient – maybe we can reason with them?" I argued, and she made a face.

"Yes, I remember how well _you_ 'reasoned' with them," she scoffed, and I scowled.

"Maybe Witherfang will be more willing to talk; the werewolf that attacked me was too agitated to speak – he wasn't receptive to Charm at all," I said. Neria looked at me in silence, gently patting my shoulder.

"Be careful, lethallan – I don't know if _everything_ can end in diplomacy," she warned softly, standing and walking over to her sleeping mat. I lay back in my own bedroll, looking up at the night sky through the trees and letting out a long sigh.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Notes:

If you haven't guessed already, I'm a bit of a Monty Python fan ;)

*I know Zevran wasn't anywhere close enough to hear them; it's not a continuity error – he's just screwing with her.


	47. Chapter 47: Wolf Den

Chapter 47

Wolf Den

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

We stood in front of a swirling dust cloud, the wind whipping in our faces; _this_ , evidently, was what was keeping intruders out of the werewolf lair. I glanced at Morrigan as she stepped forward, holding the heartwood stave over her head and swirling it around. I felt mana gathering at the staff's center, and a wave of energy washed outward as she slammed the butt of the staff into the ground. A wind blew in from behind us, sweeping away the dust cloud and clearing the way.

"Nice work," I remarked, taking a cautious step forward as Morrigan lowered the stave, and I saw a small smile on her lips, her eyes flashing at the compliment. The ruins up ahead were partially buried under a hill, with tall trees growing across the top, and vines and hanging moss draped over the entranceway. The ruined courtyard had tall, broken pillars covered in Elvish script, and Neria looked about with wide eyes, a shudder going through her.

"This looks like…the place Tamlen and I found," she murmured, her eyes going dark at the memory. Zevran placed a gentle hand on her arm, and Neria glanced at the man, giving him a small, sad smile as she took his hand.

I took in a long breath as I sensed and smelled something, and Olan let out a low growl, the fur on his shoulders bristling as his ears flattened against his skull. Neria glanced up towards the tall ridges on either side of the path we walked along, narrowing her eyes. "What is it?" Alistair asked, sliding his shield onto his arm and drawing his sword as I armed myself.

"Werewolves," I replied, my eyes darting towards the bushes on either side of the high cliffs that quartered the ruins off from the rest of the woods. A loud snarl sounded from overhead, and Swiftrunner leapt down with a pair of werewolves at his flanks, growling at me as his eyes flashed with recognition. He huffed, rearing slowly back on his hind legs, his fur bristling as his lips drew back, exposing long, dangerous fangs.

"The forest has not been vigilant enough. Still you come," he rumbled low in his throat, glowering at me. "You are stronger than we could have anticipated. The Dalish chose well," Swiftrunner admitted grudgingly. "But you do not belong here, outsider. Leave this place!" he demanded, and I scowled.

"I want to know why you attacked me last time," I retorted, feeling my heartbeat pick up with my anger. My breathing sped up as I tried to control it – the curse was making it hard to keep my temper in check.

Swiftrunner grunted, sniffing at the air and looking over each of my companions, eyes lingering over our weapons. "Hrrr. You are sent by the treacherous Dalish to kill Witherfang! I will not stand by and allow that to happen!" he scoffed, and I gritted my teeth, my fingers tightening around the handles of my blades.

"I said I didn't _want_ to fight you!" I exclaimed, growing impatient. I took a slow, calming breath as I felt Alistair place a hand on my shoulder, and I nodded to him in thanks.

"I do not believe you. I will not risk believing you," Swiftrunner growled, shaking his head slowly as he lowered himself on all fours. "Hrrr. You are an intruder in our home! You come to kill, as _all_ your kind do! We have learned this lesson well," he rumbled, and the other two werewolves growled in assent. "Here Witherfang protects us. Here we learn our names and are beloved! We will defend Witherfang and this place with our lives!"

Swiftrunner leapt at me – I raised my blades to protect myself, but Olan and Neria were faster, barking and bowling into the werewolf, snarling viciously as they clawed and bit at him, tumbling in a ball of brown and gold fur. The other two werewolves leapt at us, dodging past our archers' arrows and bolts and coming after the mages first. Morrigan waved the heartwood staff over her head, and I heard creaking and rumbling as a pair of trees nearby unearthed their roots and came to our aid as more werewolves began pouring out of the woodlands.

"Stay close to me," Alistair said as we were caught on both sides by the werewolves, guarding Morrigan as she controlled the trees. I watched as Oghren let out a fearsome bellow, cutting the head clean off a werewolf that leapt for Jowan, and Sten ran another werewolf through as it charged towards Wynne. Katja and Leliana had gotten to higher ground, firing missiles down at the beasts and lobbing fire grenades, making the clearing reek with the stench of burning fur.

"Swiftrunner! This needs to stop!" I yelled as the werewolves began to retreat, backing away with their ears down and their fur bristling. Neria and Olan stood on either side of me, their ears flat against their heads as they snarled and growled threateningly.

"No! You will chase us and slaughter us all!" the werewolf cried. His ears shot up, and he looked up towards the cliff side – a gigantic white wolf with red eyes was watching us. It leapt down between our two groups, making a low scoffing sound, and Neria let out a whimper, lowering her head immediately, as did Olan. The werewolves let out plaintive whines and ran towards the ruins, and the wolf turned its gaze on me.

"…Witherfang…" I breathed, staring at the beautiful beast in awe. It gave me a knowing look before turning on its heel, running towards the ruins as well. "Wait!" I called, but the wolf didn't stop. I let out a shaky breath, looking around at my companions – no one seemed to be hurt, and I sighed in relief.

"So…anyone _else_ a shapechanger?" Katja asked, watching as Neria transformed back, rising up on her hind-legs as a blinding light enveloped her form.

"Mmm…not that I know of," I replied, nodding to Neria, who let out a sigh.

"I'll…uh…try to explain," she murmured, scratching behind an ear and glancing around awkwardly.

oooo

We entered the ruins slowly, looking about warily – the ground was strewn with bones, and not all of them were of animals. Dusty streams of sunlight spilled down through cracks in the ceiling, and we looked about in the ancient halls, feeling immensely uncomfortable in the smothering silence. "Do you think it's safe to be in here? I thought I heard a wall crumbling off in the distance," Leliana whispered, not wanting to speak to loudly in the ruin. She made a face as her voice echoed off the walls, sounding loud and hollow.

"It seems that Elves once lived with the Tevinter humans? Or the Tevinter built this place for them? I never heard of such a thing," Zevran murmured as he looked at the decorative carvings and the architectural style of the pillars and arched doorways.

"The ruins certainly look Tevinter, but are filled with Elven trappings. How very odd," Morrigan remarked, placing a hand lightly on a wall and looking at a statue in a small alcove. Neria stared at it, her eyes flashing with recognition.

"That statue…" she murmured, "it looks like one of the statues meant to honor the Creators." Neria looked around slowly at the dusty ruins, hugging herself and shaking her head as her eyes grew distant. "This is just like the ruin Tamlen and I found," she murmured, and I cocked my head.

"You've been in a similar place to this?" I asked, and she nodded slowly.

"I only went a short way into the ruins before leaving, but I saw similar architecture," Neria explained, motioning towards the carved columns. "There was a landslide, and I wasn't able to enter the ruins until I found an alternate rout inside." She glanced around as we walked cautiously through the halls, biting her lower lip. "The search party…found a strange mirror, deep in the ruins; it had been shattered, but the Keeper of my clan called it an Eluvian," she explained. "They say that the mirrors were used by the ancient Elves to travel great distances, but no one alive knows how."

I looked at her oddly, not really understanding – I had never heard of these 'Eluvians' before, even in the Fade…unless I _had_ , and they were part of my fragmented memories. Morrigan's eyes flashed with interest at Neria's words, and the woman looked thoughtful as she gazed around the ruins. "As fascinating as that is…can we keep an eye out for the angry werebeasts trying to eat our faces off?" Jowan asked softly, and I smiled a bit at the jumpy mage.

oooo

We had found a few small rooms across the hall from one another, splitting up to search through them – Jowan and I had sensed something that felt like blood magic, and wanted to investigate; we didn't want to suddenly be surprised by a group of fugitive apostate mages hiding in the werewolf lair. I looked around what I guessed had once been a library, although off in the corner, seeming to rise out of the floor, was an odd pedestal with carved Elvish along the edges.

Alistair and my blades were shuddering violently as we explored the room, as if they were trying to fly out of the sheaths, and we glanced at one another, preparing for a surprise attack from a powerful demon or undead creature. I spotted a chest in another corner of the room, and my blade settled down to a pleasant hum as I knelt next to it.

"I wonder what that's for," I murmured as I looked at the pedestal, rummaging through the old chest. Most of the contents were ancient papers that crumbled to dust at my touch, and I sneezed, disintegrating the contents of the box as a cloud of paper-dust puffed up in my face. We started coughing, and I covered my mouth as I waved away the cloud, finding an odd, ornate amulet at the bottom of the chest.

"Oh…? Hey, have a look at this," I murmured, holding up the amulet. "Alistair, does this remind you of anything?" I asked, and he knelt next to me, looking at the necklace – in the center was a dark, red-colored gem that swirled and moved slowly, as if it contained liquid inside.

"That…looks like our Warden amulets," he replied, his eyes following the movement of the red liquid. "Is that blood in there? Whose, I wonder?" he murmured. "You'd think it would be all dried up after so long. There must be magic involved."

I placed my finger lightly against the gem – it was warm, and pulsated like a slow heartbeat at my touch. "A device meant to hold a spirit, perhaps. Such would be my guess," Morrigan remarked as she looked at the amulet as well. "Though what might be left of any spirit within after such a long time trapped?" she added softly.

"Hmph. Elf magic," Sten muttered, and I rolled my eyes.

"Hmm…I can…feel a presence from it. Very faint, as if stirring from a long sleep," I whispered, closing my eyes and concentrating on the gem. It grew warm at my touch, vibrating and pulsating faster, and my head swam as images flashed through my mind – visions and memories not of my own. Whatever was in the gem was alarmed – it recoiled in fear, and the images that were projected to me were of loneliness and imprisonment. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to frighten you," I whispered out loud, feeling Alistair and Morrigan place their hands on my shoulders and hearing them as if from far away. The presence in the gem calmed down, asking me to stay.

It showed me more images of a time long past; it showed me an eternity of imprisonment – the spirit within the gem had been there for eons, sleeping, going mad, and sleeping more. He had no name, but he had once been an Elf mage, and yet a warrior at the same time – he had used his magic to battle with a blade and armor, his mana giving him strength when his physical body failed. He showed me an old time and place, and my mind flew to thoughts of Arlathan.

"What is this place? What happened here?" I asked softly, and the presence recalled the images more slowly, now – it was as if he could barely remember this place at all. This temple had been a resting place of the Eldest of our kind – those who lived for eternity, and chose to sleep when they felt their time was done – and a place for our people to honor the Creators.

The images changed from serenity to violence, and flashes of blood and battle tore through the calm. There had been war here, before there had even been a forest – this temple was older than the oldest trees in all of Ferelden. The presence's memories of what happened were uncertain – it was so long ago that the visions were muddled.

"How did you end up in this gem?" I asked softly. More images of the battle came, with both humans and Elves screaming and fleeing from a terrible presence. The spirit within the gem couldn't remember what it was – the horror was so great that he had erased it from his mind. The Elf had escaped the destruction by implanting his soul in the Life Gem, and had prayed for someone to come and rescue him…but no one had come until now.

"You were once a mage?" I murmured, and the Elf showed me the image of him wearing the silver armor and carrying a flaming sword. A shudder went through me as I recognized the blade – it was a silver longsword, and had glowing blue runes across the length. I projected my own image, showing him Alistair and I carrying similar blades, and a shiver of excitement passed through the spirit – he was overjoyed that his weapons had been found.

"Alistair, our swords!" I grinned, not knowing if he could hear me – I could barely feel his and Morrigan's presences, even though their hands were on my shoulders. "He _made_ them! He knows their names!" I breathed, listening as the spirit spoke them – he had made three blades, forged with the purest lyrium and metal from falling stars, and in all of his time in the gem, he had never forgotten the names, even when his own eluded him.

"Your longsword is Caladbolg, and my saber is Claíomh Solais," I said, and very faintly, I felt Alistair's grip on my shoulder tighten, as if in acknowledgement. There was also a third sword – a rapier – called Fragarach, but I had no idea where it could be. The spirit was grateful that he had been reunited with two of his three blades, at least.

The spirit projected the name of his order – it translated to 'Arcane Warrior'. I had never heard of such a thing, and the presence showed me what little he could remember; there had been an order of Elven mages who channeled their magic into strength, to protect their charges as both mages and warriors. The presence sensed that I could teach this knowledge to other mages, if I chose, but he asked for one thing in return for showing me this knowledge – he wanted me to set him free.

"How would I give you the release you seek?" I asked. An image of the stone pedestal was projected to me, and instructions to place the Life Gem in the center. The gem vibrated and exploded, and the Elf's spirit projected his intense longing for such an end. "I'll try to help you," I promised softly, and a wave of gratitude washed over me.

I opened my eyes, finding myself lying on the dusty floor of the library with the amulet resting over my heart. I blinked a few times as the worried faces of Alistair and Morrigan drifted into view, and I let out a groan, sitting up slowly and looking around – everyone else in the group had gathered in the room, and were watching me in silence.

"Ow…how long was I out?" I asked softly, coughing as I brushed dust out of my hair.

"About an hour, I think," Alistair murmured. I tried to get to my feet, cringing as my muscles cramped up. "Easy now," he said gently, supporting me with an arm around my waist.

"We need to…" I began, and Morrigan nodded slightly, gently taking the amulet from my fingers.

"Morrigan and I could sense what was happening," Alistair explained. "The connection wasn't as strong or clear as yours probably was, but we could still 'hear' the spirit through you." I watched as Morrigan walked over to the altar, placing the amulet in the center and leaning over it, touching the gem in the center and whispering something in an uncharacteristically gentle tone. The gem cracked and burst into a million shards of light, fading away, and the entire room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, as if a great weight had been lifted.

oooo

Once I was steady on my feet, we continued deeper into the ruins until we found an odd pool of water. Olan sniffed around the edge, letting out a bark and wagging his tail as he looked at the water. "Is that where they went, Olan?" I asked, and the mabari grunted, pawing at the ground and letting out a plaintive whine.

"Sure smells like it," Neria remarked.

I took a long sniff at the air, faintly recognizing the smell of werewolves, and I nodded in confirmation. "Maker's breath, I need to stop before I get used to that," I groaned, catching an amused look from Neria as she noticed me sniffing about.

"So…who wants to jump into the water first?" Zevran asked, looking about. "Clothing is optional," he added with a roguish wink. Neria smirked as she walked casually behind him, wrapping her arms around the assassin's shoulders.

"I vote Zevran," she teased, shoving him into the water, and the Elf immediately disappeared from view.

"…'Tis magical," Morrigan assured us, after bending down and touching the surface.

"…shouldn't we have checked _before_ throwing Zevran in?" I asked, and Katja waved a hand.

"Ah, he's fine," the Dwarf chuckled. "Now…I can't swim," she added, and Neria took one of her hands, Leliana taking the other. The three counted off before jumping into the water – the surface barely rippled as they passed through it.

"Huh," I remarked. "Well?" I said to Alistair, taking his hand. Wynne and Jowan paired off, as did Morrigan and Olan, and Sten and Oghren. We each counted off before jumping into the water, and I shut my eyes as a rushing cold swept around me, keeping a tight grip on Alistair's hand as I held my breath. We staggered forward as we were suddenly on solid ground, and I stared around at the room we had appeared in.

"I would move if I were you," Zevran warned from his spot underneath Leliana, Katja and Neria, who were giggling as they tried to disentangle themselves. "Not that I am complaining, mind you," he added to the three girls, who clambered off and helped each other to their feet.

"That is…a bizarre way to travel," Wynne admitted, once she and Jowan had come through – the portal was on the floor of the room, and yet somehow we all ended up on the rim of the pool next to it. Jowan knelt near the 'water', his eyes shining with fascination as he looked at the construct.

"This is amazing," he breathed, letting out a startled gasp as Morrigan and Olan appeared, toppling over him. He hastily got to his feet, helping Morrigan up as she glared at Olan.

"Adeline, your fool dog decided to trip me on the way down," she scoffed, and Olan blinked up at her with innocent eyes.

"He's quite taken with you, you know," I teased as they moved out of the way, and she rolled her eyes at me in reply. Once Sten and Oghren had come over safely, we opened the door to the room, following another ruined corridor until we came to a circular hall. We stopped as we spotted a trio of werewolves keeping guard, and I held up my hands as they stood on their hind legs, adopting aggressive stances.

"Oh sod… Look, can't we just–" I was cut off as the pair of werewolves behind the center one growled at me. The leader of the trio glared at them and gave a short bark, silencing them.

"Stop! Brother and sister, be at ease! We do not wish any more of our people hurt," he said to them, and the two lowered themselves into more neutral stances. The leader turned towards me, his eyes lucid as he spoke. "I ask you this now, outsider: are you willing to parley?"

I frowned at the werewolf, more than a little ticked off as I crossed my arms. "That's what I was trying to do from the _beginning_ ," I scoffed. "But yes, let's talk," I added in a more tempered tone.

"Not with me," the guard werewolf said, indicating the large door behind him. "I have been sent to you on behalf of the Lady. She believes that you may not be aware of everything you _should_ be. She means you no harm, provided your willingness to parley in peace is an honest one," he explained, and I nodded slowly, pursing my lips as my eyes flitted between the three werewolves.

"If you were willing to talk, why didn't you earlier? It would have saved us both a lot of grief," I sighed, and the werewolf grumbled with displeasure.

"Swiftrunner did not think it would matter," he replied. "The Lady disagrees, and since you have forced your way this far, we must acquiesce to her wishes."

"Then take us to this Lady," I said, and he gave a low growl, "please," I added, and he let out a soft snort.

"Follow me. But I warn you, if you break your promise and harm her, I will come back from the Fade itself to see you pay," his voice rumbled low in his throat, and I nodded, not doubting his fierce loyalty for a moment. Our company was flanked by the pair of werewolves as the lead guard opened the door, showing us the way.

oooo

We came to a large room with a domed ceiling in the back, open to the sky with great, crawling vines tumbling down the walls, sunlight streaming through and illuminating the place. The chamber was filled with werewolves, who lined the pathway, snarling and bristling at us as we passed. I felt the hair on my neck standing up, and Olan let out a low grumble, a mix between a growl and a whine.

Up ahead, as if appearing from the sunlight itself, stood an eerily beautifully woman with green skin, and pitch-black hair that fell down to her waist. Her eyes were completely black, and shone like glistening marbles of onyx as she looked at me. She raised a vine-covered hand, and the werewolves were calmed, sitting down on their haunches and watching for the first sign of danger.

"I bid you welcome, mortal. I am the Lady of the Forest," the spirit greeted, her voice soothing, like a soft wind. I felt the curse inside of me calm in her presence, and I let out a soft sigh as my shoulders relaxed.

"I am Adeline Tabris," I introduced myself in turn. "And thank you. I am glad we have this chance to talk peaceably," I added.

Swiftrunner, who had been sitting calmly by the woman's side, suddenly leapt to his feet, glaring at me and baring his teeth. "Do not listen to her, Lady! She will betray you! We must attack her now!" he argued, and the Lady of the Forest gently raised her hand, placing it on the werewolf's shoulder. He let out a long breath, calming down, though he still glared at me with distrust.

"Hush, Swiftrunner. Your urge for battle has only seen the death of the very ones you have been trying to save. Is that what you want?" she chided him gently, as a mother would a misbehaving child, and Swiftrunner hung his head in shame, his ears flattening against his head.

"No, my lady. Anything but that," he murmured a reply, sitting back down.

"Then the time has come to speak with this outsider, to set our rage aside," she continued, turning her gaze on me. "I apologize on Swiftrunner's behalf. He struggles with his nature," she said softly. "And I…also apologize for any pain he has brought you. In its early stages, the curse is not easy to deal with. You have held up remarkably well," she added, and I bobbed my head.

"Apology accepted. His mind was not his own, and I will not hold him to this," I replied.

"No doubt you have questions, mortal. There are things that Zathrian has not told you," the spirit sighed, crossing her arms lightly as she looked over our company.

"He _did_ seem rather…reluctant to speak. What is it you know?" I asked.

"It was Zathrian who created the curse that these creatures suffer; the same curse that Zathrian's own people now suffer," the Lady explained, and my eyes widened with surprise. "Centuries ago, when the Dalish first came to this land, a tribe of humans lived close to this forest. They sought to drive the Dalish away. Zathrian was a young man then. He had a son and daughter he loved greatly, and while out hunting the human tribe captured them both."

Swiftrunner stood, glancing at the Lady before continuing the tale. "Hrrrr. The humans…tortured the boy, killed him," he rumbled out. "The girl they raped and left for dead. The Dalish found her, but she learned later she was…with child. She…killed herself…" he said softly, his tone sad.

"So Zathrian cursed them?" Alistair asked, and Swiftrunner gave a small snort of assent.

"Zathrian came to this ruin and summoned a terrible spirit, binding it to the body of a great wolf," the werewolf continued. "So Witherfang came to be. Witherfang hunted the humans of the tribe. Many were killed, but others were cursed by his blood, becoming twisted and savage creatures…" he said, placing a hand over his heart.

"Twisted and savage just as Witherfang himself is," the Lady of the Forest added softly.

"Deceit is the nature of men," I heard Sten murmur.

"They were driven into the forest," the Lady continued. "When the human tribe finally left for good, their cursed brethren remained, pitiful and mindless animals."

"Until I found you, my lady. You gave me peace," Swiftrunner said reverently, his eyes warm as he looked at the spirit.

"I showed Swiftrunner that there was another side to his bestial nature," the Lady said, gently taking Swiftrunner's outstretched claws. "I soothed his rage, and his humanity emerged. And he brought others to me."

"But…why did you ambush the Dalish? For revenge?" Leliana asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"In part," the Lady admitted. "We seek to end the curse. The crimes committed against Zathrian's children were grave, but they were committed centuries ago by those who are long dead," she argued. "Word was sent to Zathrian every time the land-ships passed this way, asking him to come, but he has always ignored us. We will no longer be denied."

"Hrrr! We spread the curse to his people! So he must end the curse to save them!" Swiftrunner chimed in, and the Lady of the Forest looked at me pleadingly.

"Please, mortal…you must go to him. Bring him here. If he sees these creatures, hears their plight…surely he will agree to end the curse!" she asked, and I looked at the gathering of werewolves about the room. They were calm now, but how would they respond if they saw Zathrian?

"Why would Zathrian agree to come here alone? Surely he'll think it's a trap," I stated.

"If Zathrian comes, I shall summon Witherfang – I possess that power," the Lady replied. "I _also_ have the power to ensure Witherfang is never found. Tell Zathrian this. If he does not come, if he does not break the curse, he will never find Witherfang, and he will never cure his people," she said, her tone firm.

"Very well. We'll find Zathrian and tell him this," I promised, bobbing my head to the spirit.

"Then we shall await your return. Outside of this chamber, the passage leading back to the surface has been opened for you. Return with Zathrian as soon as you can," the Lady said, waving a hand towards a door to her right. I heard a faint click and watched the door swing open, revealing a flight of stairs.

As we left the room, heading up the stairs, I made a face, sensing powerful, ancient magic up ahead. "Somehow, I don't think we'll have to go far to find Zathrian," Alistair remarked, voicing my thoughts as he sensed it as well. We found the man in one of the first rooms of the temple, where the animal and humanoid skeletons were strewn about.

"Ah. And here you are already," the Keeper greeted as he heard our approach. I crossed my arms as we stopped a short distance from the Elf, frowning at him.

"Didn't trust me, did you?" I said, and Morrigan chuckled as she came to my side.

"He wishes to see if we did his work for him," she observed, her eyes flashing in the faint sunlight that streamed through the roof. "Is that not why you are here now, sorcerer?" she added, addressing Zathrian.

"Do not call me that, witch," he almost spat as he glared at the woman, and I scowled at his tone. "I am Keeper of this clan, and have done what I must. Especially when I could sense the curse within her," he continued, indicating me, "and recognized the company she kept," he added, glaring at Neria almost accusingly. "Did you acquire the heart?" he asked, and I shook my head.

"No, I didn't," I replied coolly, and the Keeper narrowed his eyes, folding his hands into the wide sleeves of his robes.

"You didn't? May I ask, then, why are you leaving the ruin?" he questioned.

"I've been sent to bring you back to the Lady of the Forest," I answered simply, and he scoffed.

"Oh? Is that what the spirit calls herself now? And what does she want with me, if I might inquire?" Zathrian asked, his tone sardonic.

"What is it you _think_ she wants?" Neria asked, sounding angry, and justifiably so – Zathrian's stubbornness had put his entire clan in danger.

"To survive, I suspect. That is the common nature amongst all such creatures; the will to survive," Zathrian retorted, brushing off her anger. "You do understand that she actually _is_ Witherfang?" he added, and I nodded – I had been able to sense her power.

"Yes I…gathered as much," I replied.

"She is the powerful spirit of this ancient forest that I summoned long ago and bound in the body of the wolf. Her nature is that of the forest itself; beautiful and terrible, serene and savage, maiden and beast – she is the Lady and Witherfang both, two sides of a single being," Zathrian explained, slowly pacing around the room. "The curse came first from her. Those she afflicted with it mirrored her own nature, becoming savage beast as well as human."

"But the werewolves have regained their minds," Wynne argued, and Zathrian scoffed, shaking his head and looking at the woman as if she were imagining things.

"I find that difficult to believe," he said. "They attacked my clan and they were the same savages then that they have ever been. They deserve to be wiped out and not defended," he continued, pulling the staff from his back, the air around him crackling with magic. "Come. I will accompany you back to the ruin. Let us go and speak to the spirit and I will force her into Witherfang's form. He may then be slain and the heart taken," he urged, and I scowled.

"I assure you, the werewolves have regained their minds," I insisted.

"Even so, they are still the same worthless creatures that their ancestors were. They deserve nothing more than the misery they possess," the Keeper retorted. "This is not your battle, Grey Warden. Let us just take the heart and be done with it."

"Do you still have so much hatred after all this time?" Neria asked, her tone pitying.

"You were not there," Zathrian growled, his eyes blazing. "You did not see what…what they did to my son. To my daughter. And so many others." He turned his gaze on me. "You are Elven. You know what it is like to have injustice thrown in your face. Their crimes could not go unanswered!"

"But those crimes were committed centuries ago, and those who committed them are long gone," I argued.

"I remember them as if it were yesterday. Even if they are more than animals now, they desire nothing but revenge. They will never let my clan be," the man snarled – he was becoming more animal than the werewolves.

"So your answer is to let them suffer forever?" I exclaimed, and Zathrian slammed the butt of his staff against the floor.

"Tell me, if you held your own daughter's lifeless body in your arms would you not also have sworn an eternity of pain on those who did such to her?" he shouted, and I felt my temper snap. I marched towards the man, grabbing the collar of his robe and wrenching him down to my height, my eyes burning into his as I held a finger in his face.

"I have watched my loved ones beaten and violated while I could do nothing. I have held my betrothed in my arms, helpless as he bled to death on our wedding day, so do _not_ speak of pain to me, _Keeper_ ," I snarled, and Zathrian went silent as he stared into my eyes. I let him go and he staggered backwards. "But my revenge was against the one man who did me wrong – _not_ all of mankind," I added in a gentler tone.

Zathrian looked at me quietly, letting out a long breath as he straightened out his robes. "…very well," he agreed grudgingly. "You wish me to go and talk? I will do so. But what if it is only more revenge they wish? Will you safeguard me from harm?" he asked, and I nodded.

"I will," I promised, "unless _you_ attack first," I added, and the Elf narrowed his eyes at me.

"I fail to see the purpose behind this…but very well," he agreed. "It has been many centuries, now. Let us see what the spirit has to say."

oooo

We returned to the lower chambers of the temple, and the werewolves snarled at Zathrian as he approached, but remained seated with a wave of the Lady of the Forest's hand. The Keeper strode brazenly up to her without regarding the werewolves at all, standing and crossing his arms as he looked at her with disdain. "So here you are, spirit," Zathrian said, his voice contemptuous. Swiftrunner snarled at his tone, lunging at Zathrian and snapping his teeth closed a centimeter from the Elf's face – to his credit, the man didn't even bat an eyelash.

"Hrrr! She is the Lady of the Forest! You will address her properly!" the werewolf growled, and Zathrian ignored him, his eyes meeting those of the Lady.

"You've taken a name, spirit?" he asked mockingly. "And you've given names to your pets? These… _beasts_ who follow you?"

The Lady folded her arms lightly in front of her, looking steadily at Zathrian. "It was _they_ who gave _me_ a name, Zathrian. And the names they take are their own," she replied, her voice soft as she settled the angry werewolves. "They follow me because I help them to find who they are."

"Who they are has not changed from whom their ancestors were," Zathrian scoffed, glowering at the werewolves. "Wild savages! Worthless dogs! Their twisted shape only mirrors their monstrous hearts!" The werewolves growled at his words, the fur on their shoulders bristling as they drew back their lips.

"He will not help us, Lady! It is as I warned you! He is not here to talk!" Swiftrunner said, looking at the Lady with worry, his fur bristling as he glared at Zathrian.

"No, I _am_ here to talk, though I see little point in it," the Keeper retorted. "We all know where this will lead. Your nature compels it, as does mine." At his words, the werewolves around the room let out low snarls, glaring at him with piercing eyes. _Dammit…_ I thought, feeling my companions tense up – I didn't want us caught up in the middle of a meat-grinder.

The Lady of the Forest held up a hand, and the werewolves calmed, sitting down as their fur flattened, although they continued to glare at Zathrian with suspicion. "It does not have to be that way," the Lady said, her eyes pleading. "There is room in your heart for compassion, Zathrian. Surely your retribution is spent."

"My retribution is eternal, spirit, as is my pain. This is justice, no more," Zathrian ground through his teeth, glaring at the spirit.

"Are you certain your pain is the only reason you will not end this curse? Have you told the mortal how it was created?" the Lady asked, and I glanced up at her.

"He said he summoned you and bound you to a wolf," I replied, and she nodded.

"And so he did. Witherfang and I are bound as one being," she confirmed. "But such powerful magic could not be accomplished without Zathrian's own blood," she added, and Jowan let out a soft breath. _Did he…sense that blood magic was behind the curse?_ I wondered, glancing at him, and he gave a small, guilty nod. "Your people believe you have rediscovered the immortality of their ancestors, Zathrian, but that is not true. So long as the curse exists, so do you," the Lady said, addressing the Keeper, who took a shaky step back.

"No, that is not how it is!" he exclaimed, holding up his hands.

"Just how far will you go for your revenge, Zathrian?" Neria asked, and Zathrian glared at her.

"I did it for my people! I did it for my son, and my daughter! For them, for justice, I would do anything!" he yelled, and Neria scoffed.

"You put your people in danger by letting this go on!" she argued.

"The curse would not end with Zathrian's death," the Lady of the Forest said, interrupting their argument. "His _life_ , however, relies on its existence. And I believe his death plays a part in its ending," she added, and Swiftrunner growled low in his throat, his eyes flashing with eagerness.

"Then we kill him! We tear him apart now!" the werewolf barked, and the others around the room growled in assent, getting on all fours and snarling at the Elf, who's shoulders stiffened in fear.

"For all your powers of speech, you are beasts still!" Zathrian cried, grabbing his staff and backing away slowly. "What would you gain from killing me? Only _I_ know how the ritual ends, and I will never do it!"

"You see? We must kill them all!" Swiftrunner shouted, ignoring the Lady as she held up a hand for calm. He didn't _want_ to be calm – he wanted to kill.

"See? They turn on you as quickly," Zathrian hissed, glaring at me. "Do what you have come here to do, Grey Warden, or get out of my way," he added, and I felt the crackle of magic in the air around him as he began casting a spell.

"We all need to stop!" I yelled, trying to be heard above the snarling of the werewolves, but they ignored us as they let out piercing howls.

"If you won't help me, you die with them! All of you will suffer as you deserve!" Zathrian cried, slamming his staff against the ground. The entire room shook violently, and I barely kept my feet, swearing and grabbing Leliana's arm as she caught me by the shoulder. The room seemed to explode in a flurry of teeth and claws as the werewolves attacked, going after not only Zathrian, but my company as well.

"Oh _hell_ no!" I roared, drawing my blades and charging a werewolf as it attacked Jowan and Morrigan, ramming into it with my shoulder and holding it off as the creature snarled and snapped at me with deadly sharp teeth.

"Try to hold them off! We're going to use a mass sleep spell!" Jowan shouted over the noise. Oghren and Neria fought towards us, and I had them defend the pair of mages as I hunted down Wynne. I ducked and dodged the werewolves as they attacked, gasping as a pair of giant, humanoid trees entered the fray – I was about to relax, believing they were Morrigan's work, when I spotted one attacking Sten as he struggled to fend of five werewolves at once. He was guarding Wynne as she healed Leliana, who looked as if she had been bitten deep into her left leg, and was struggling to stay conscious.

"I'm with you salroka!" I heard Katja's voice beside me, and I nodded, running with her as she lobbed a fire grenade at the animated tree's feet, setting it, and the werewolves ablaze. "Sten and I will handle them – get to Alistair!" the Dwarf yelled, pointing to the Templar as he was cornered by Swiftrunner and another two werewolves.

I shoved my way through the swarm of werewolves as they leapt at the second tree, trying to take it down with their combined weight, those on the ground ignoring me as they charged Zathrian. Alistair was guarding the Elf and shouting profanity as the Keeper grudgingly healed a wound on his sword-arm – I was actually more shocked that Alistair was swearing than anything else. _He shouldn't have his back to Zathrian, though, even if we need him to lift the curse,_ I thought, my eyes darting across the sea of fur and spotting Olan as he leapt out of the fray, tackling Swiftrunner and distracting him from Alistair.

"Oh thank the Maker you're safe," the man breathed as I shoved past the werewolves, holding my blades up defensively as I guarded his left. His shield-arm looked a bit shaky – he must have hurt it when he was holding off Danyla earlier, and the constant barage of werewolf bodies against us wasn't helping.

"Jowan and Morrigan are readying a sleeping spell – it should hit any second now," I gasped, lashing out and kicking a werewolf in the face as he leapt at me, falling back with a loud keen of pain.

"Here it comes!" Alistair gasped, bracing himself as he sensed the magic bursting outward. A wave of sleeping spell washed over us, knocking almost everything out. The werewolves stumbled and collapsed, as did a few of our companions – Wynne, Morrigan and Jowan were still awake, as well as Alistair and me, but everyone else had passed out.

"That's a hell of a sleeping spell if it can knock out _Dwarves,_ " I remarked as I spotted Oghren and Katja lying passed out among the werewolves.

"Right," Alistair replied, lowering his weapons. "Now we just need to–" his voice choked out, and I whirled around, staring up at him as his face went stiff, white with shock. Alistair toppled forward with a clatter of armor as his eyes rolled back in his head, and I stared at the thin knife sticking from his lower back.

"Now stay away," Zathrian snarled, holding his stave up threateningly, "or I'll kill you too." I stared at Alistair in shock as he lay on the ground, gasping for breath. My eyes darted up towards Zathrian and I roared, throwing myself at the Elf and grabbing him by the throat, pinning him against the wall and sliding him up it, my hair blazing around my face as I dug my claws into his neck.

"Adeline! Alistair!" Jowan shouted, and I heard him and Morrigan running over. "Adeline, stop! He's alright – I can stop the bleeding!" Jowan yelled, and I snarled at Zathrian as I slowly lowered him to the ground, and baring my teeth in his face.

" _End this curse_ ," I grated out through clenched teeth, and the Keeper stared at me in fear as my hair whipped around my face like fire. I dragged him by the collar of his robes, throwing him at the Lady of the Forest's feet as she stood nearby, looking sadly at the chaos around the room.

"No, no more. I…I cannot…cannot defeat you…" Zathrian gasped out as I stood with my blade resting on his back, keeping the man on his hands and knees as I changed back to my Elf form, ready to strike him down at the first sign of treachery.

"You're lucky I don't just _kill_ you after what you've done," I hissed, and the Lady looked at me with her calm, dark eyes.

"Please, Adeline, do not kill him. If there is no room in our hearts for mercy, how may we expect there to be room in his?" she asked softly, and I sheathed my blade, glaring at Zathrian as he slowly shifted into a sitting position.

"I cannot do as you ask, spirit. I am too old…to know mercy," Zathrian sighed, covering his face with his hands. "All I see are the faces of my children, my people. I…I cannot do it."

"Hasn't this gone on long enough, Zathrian?" I asked, managing to control my voice as I looked back towards Jowan and Morrigan, who had pulled off Alistair's cuirass and hauberk, and had put him under a sleeping spell to dull the pain – it must have been more serious than just a flesh wound. I glanced at Leliana, who was unconscious as well, with Wynne treating her leg with both magic and healing poultices.

Zathrian followed my gaze, letting out a long sigh as he saw the damage his vengeance had caused. "Perhaps I have…lived too long," he murmured, looking down at the ground. "This hatred in me is like an ancient, gnarled root… It has consumed my soul," he admitted, placing a hand over his heart as he looked up at the Lady of the Forest. "What of you, spirit? You are bound to the curse just as I am. Do you not fear your end?" he asked, and the Lady shook her head, resting her hands gently on her collarbone as she looked at Zathrian.

"You are my maker, Zathrian," she said softly. "You gave me form and consciousness where none existed. I have known pain and love, hope and fear, all the joy that is life," she smiled, kneeling in front of Zathrian and gently taking his hands. "Yet of all things I desire nothing more than an end. I beg you, maker…put an end to me. _We_ beg you…show mercy," she breathed.

Zathrian looked at her in shock, his eyes reddening as her powers soothed his pain. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he gripped her hands, and he nodded slowly. "You shame me, spirit. I am…an old man, alive long past his time," he sighed.

"Then you will do it? You will end the curse?" the Lady asked, and he nodded, getting to his feet and standing in front of her.

"Yes, I think it is time. Let us…let us put an end to it all," he breathed. The Keeper held his hands above his head and spoke something in Elvish, closing his eyes and letting out a long, slow sigh. His body collapsed as he died, and the Lady of the Forest clasped her hands over her heart for a few moments before vanishing in a flash of light. A warm glow seemed to spread outward through the room, and I covered my eyes as it became blindingly bright.

I blinked a few times when the light disappeared; Zathrian's body had vanished, as had all of the werewolves – in their places were unconscious humans, still under the influence of Morrigan and Jowan's sleeping spell. I let out a long sigh; the curse was gone – I couldn't feel a trace of it left within me. I turned and walked quickly over to Wynne, asking if Leliana was alright – up close, her wound was much worse than I had first seen.

"She will live, although she'll be limping for a few days," Wynne replied, patting Leliana's shoulder gently as the girl slept, her eyelids flickering as she dreamt.

"Here," I said, taking a few small vials of lyrium potion out of my side-pouch, "don't over-exert yourself." Wynne nodded, downing one of the potions and returning to treating Leliana. I found each of our other companions – luckily, none of them were wounded besides a few scratches and bruises – before returning to Alistair's side.

"He'll live," Jowan headed off my question as he and Morrigan treated Alistair.

"He was stabbed in the kidney," Morrigan explained, and I crossed my arms lightly, watching them anxiously as they worked. "He will be _fine_ , Adeline," Morrigan insisted, shooting me a glare as I continued to hover. "Here, take these and wake the others," she said, handing me a small vial of chipped bits of white crystal.

"What is this?" I asked, uncorking the vial.

"Distilled spirit of hartshorn – smelling salts," she explained. "Hold it under someone's nose to wake them," she added, and I nodded. I walked slowly around the room, reviving my companions and helping them to their feet before getting to work on the werewolves. The humans looked around in confusion when I revived them, letting out small growls and coughs before realizing that they had become human again.

"It's…over," a golden-haired man with a short beard breathed, looking up at me with clear eyes as I helped him to his feet. "She's gone, and…we're human. I can scarcely believe it."

"You're…Swiftrunner?" I asked, and he nodded slowly. "What are you going to do now?" I added, and he looked slowly around the room as the other humans gathered about.

"We'll…leave the forest, I suppose. Find other humans, see what's out there for us. It should be quite interesting don't you think?" he replied, taking my hands very gently in his, as if he were afraid he would hurt me. "Thank you. We…we'll never forget you," he added gratefully. Swiftrunner knelt, bowing his head, and the other werewolves copied the motion, giving me their thanks before standing and leaving the ruins.

"What about you? Are you alright?" Neria asked, coming over to me, and I nodded.

"Yes. I don't feel any trace of the curse left," I sighed, looking anxiously at Alistair. Morrigan caught my look and let out a long, set-upon sigh, motioning that I could come over.

"We will have to camp here tonight – I would not risk moving him and Leliana about until their wounds have sufficiently healed," the dark-haired woman remarked, and I nodded.

"Of course," I agreed, turning to the others, who nodded, once they saw Leliana and Alistair's wounds.

oooo

We set up camp, barring the doors of the room and lighting a fire as the sunlight faded, casting the room in darkness as the light moved away from the hole in the ceiling. Leliana had come-to by now, and was sitting propped up against a broken pillar near the fire, looking at her ruined leggings. "And I _liked_ that pair," she sighed, running a hand through her hair, and I chuckled as I sat down next to her, pulling off my boots and setting them down near my pack. "Although I suppose I should be glad I get to keep my leg," she added.

"How did they get you?" Katja asked. "Gunnhild jams up for _one_ second, and you're on the ground, getting attacked by _five_ werewolves and a _tree!_ " she exclaimed, and Leliana sighed.

"Wynne and I got cornered," the bard admitted. "We're only alive because Sten was close enough to hold them off until you reached us," she added, looking at the Qunari as he cleaned Asala nearby. "Thank you for that, Sten," Leliana said gratefully, and Sten glanced at her from across the fire.

"You are welcome, kadan," he replied, and she smiled at the appellation – up until now, I had been the only one that Sten had called 'kadan'. _I'm glad we're all finally getting along,_ I thought with a sigh, walking quietly over to where Alistair was sleeping.

He had been placed on his stomach so that he wouldn't bother his wound, and I rubbed the back of my neck as I looked at him – his neck and shoulders were going to be _very_ sore in the morning, the way he was sleeping. I unrolled my sleeping mat and rested my head on my arms as I looked at him, my eyes sad – I shouldn't have turned my back on Zathrian like that. I let out a soft sigh, reaching out and gently brushing the back of my fingers across his arm, biting my lip as I saw goose bumps making his skin prickle. _He's ticklish?_ I thought with amusement, smiling slightly.

"Hmm…" he let out a soft sigh, his eyelids flickering. "Adeline…?" he murmured, looking at me through unfocused eyes.

"Shh…don't move too much, love," I whispered, placing my hand gently on his arm. "You're safe now. Everything's alright," I assured him, and he blinked a few times, getting his eyes into focus.

"What…happened?" he asked, and I turned on my side, running a hand gently through his hair as he lay his head back down.

"You were stabbed in the kidney," I said softly. "Morrigan said that you shouldn't be moved, so we're camping out in the ruins," I explained.

"What about Zathrian? And the werewolves?" he questioned, and I smiled.

"We did it, Alistair – Zathrian lifted the curse, and the werewolves were cured," I murmured, and he let out a soft sigh of relief. "Zathrian and the Lady of the Forest…had to sacrifice themselves, though," I added, and Alistair closed his eyes. "But the Keeper finally came to terms with his grief. He accepted it, in the end," I said, and the man smiled slightly.

"At least he saved his clan," he remarked, and I nodded. I leaned over slightly, kissing his shoulder and chuckling.

"You know," I smiled, "you broke your own rule," I said, and Alistair raised an eyebrow. "Never turn your back on an opponent that's still standing." He let out a soft snort at my words, shaking his head at me.

"I didn't think a _mage_ would stick me with a knife – and not with enough power to get through my armor, either," he admitted, and I smirked.

"Well, lesson learned," I teased. "And how about I get _you_ a dagger, too? One to keep in your boot in case you're ever disarmed," I offered, and he chuckled.

"Only if we get you some better armor," he countered, and I rolled my eyes.

"Still going on with the better armor," I snorted. "I've got metal _plates_ in my vest for sod's sake," I exclaimed, rolling onto my back and looking at the ceiling of the temple.

"Well…I heard the last time we were in Denerim that there's a smith who can work wonders with almost any material," he began. "And we've still got that treated drake-skin from Haven," he added, and I rolled my eyes.

"Alright, alright, if it makes you happy," I relented, and Alistair chuckled at my reluctance.

"It'll save me from having a _heart-attack_ every time you rush into battle," he added, and I smiled softly at him, stroking his cheek with the back of my hand. He gently took my fingers in his and kissed my palm, resting his head against it as I curled up next to him.

"As you wish," I whispered.

oOo

The group traveled back through the Brecilian once Leliana and Alistair were able to travel; the going was slow, with many breaks and detours to find less treacherous paths – it took them two days to return to the Dalish camp. Katja and Neria collected a large amount of ironbark wood, carrying bundles of the material with them and bringing them to Master Varathorn once they returned to his aravel.

"Hello, friends – we were worried that you had lost your way," Varathorn greeted, smiling warmly at the pair as they approached. "The hunters have been healed, thanks to you and your friends – we are in your debt," he added, bowing his head.

"There is no need, Master Varathorn," Neria reflected his smile. "We have retrieved the ironbark as you asked," she added. "There is a fallen tree a ways northeast of the camp – now that the forest is free of werewolves, you will be able to collect more for your crafts.

"Truly? Let me see. Yes…that is indeed ironbark, and a substantial quantity of it as well. Well done!" the Elf craftsman exclaimed, grinning at the news. "An agreement is an agreement – I will enhance your crossbow, da'falon," he added, looking at Katja, who was blushing with excitement as she handed Gunnhild over.

"Oh, can I watch?" she asked, and Varathorn smiled at her eagerness.

"Of course," he replied, motioning that she could walk around the work area. As Katja watched his apprentice shaping a bow by the forge, the older Elf turned back to Neria. "Do you need anything else, lethallan? I'm afraid that once I begin work, I'll be too caught up to take more orders," he warned, and Neria pursed her lips.

"Do you…have a set of quilted Dalish gloves? Fingerless, with embroidery?" she asked, and Master Varathorn thought for a moment.

"Not in your size, I'm afraid," he replied, and she shook her head.

"Ah, no. I was thinking in a man's size," Neria amended, and the craftsman smiled slightly as she turned her head, looking towards Zevran, who was chatting with a few Dalish hunters.

"I'm sure I have something in stock," Varathorn said, entering his aravel and rummaging through the armor and weapon stores.

oooo

Adeline found Lanaya waiting for her by Zathrian's aravel – she had told her group that they should resupply around camp; they were moving on tomorrow, if they could. Lanaya watched the red-haired Elf approach, nodding slightly as she saw the look of urgency in her eyes. "It is done," Lanaya said, crossing her arms as she leaned against the aravel. "The essence of the wolf's heart has banished all traces of cursed blood from the hunters. It is too bad that Zathrian had to die," she added, and Adeline looked surprised that she knew. "I…I felt it, when he departed. I think he was ready to go," the new Keeper sighed, looking sadly at the ground.

"I'm sure he was," Adeline replied gently, her tone sympathetic.

"It will be difficult to fill Zathrian's shoes. He was our keeper for many centuries and he will be sorely missed…" the young woman murmured, chewing her lower lip nervously. "But I am Keeper now," she added firmly, pushing herself off the aravel and standing straight and tall, looking Adeline in the eyes. "Let me say it officially, then: I hereby swear to uphold the terms of the ancient contract our people formed with the Grey Wardens. Call and we shall come, with great speed and purpose, and we shall strike at your foes. This I swear," she vowed, bowing before the Grey Warden.

"Thank you, Keeper Lanaya," Adeline replied.

"It has been a long time since the Dalish marched to war…but I trust that, in the end, we shall make a difference for you," the Keeper promised. "Now forgive me, Grey Warden, but I must attend my people – while the curse has been lifted, many are still weak from their illness," she added.

"I understand," Adeline said, watching as Lanaya walked over to the sick-bay, where Wynne and Jowan were looking over the sick Elves as healers moved through them.

A young, blonde-haired Elf spotted Adeline as she walked through the camp, hailing her down – she recognized Deygan from the forest. "Greetings to you, friend. I understand I have you to thank for my rescue from the forest?" he asked, and Adeline smiled slightly, glad to see that the young man was up and about.

"I was glad to help," she replied.

"I don't want your efforts to go unrewarded. Here is a gem I traded for when I was amongst the outsiders," Deygan said, taking a small star sapphire from his pocket, placing it in Adeline's palm as he took her hand. "I thought to make a necklace out of it for my bride, but I want you to have it. I know it is of worth," he added, and Adeline frowned.

"No, I can't take this from you, Deygan," Adeline said gently.

"You wish me to keep it? Then you are truly generous. Thank you again," the Dalish man grinned as she handed the gemstone back to him. "And now I am afraid I must rest. The Keeper says I am not yet fully recovered, after all. I wish you well, my friend," he added, waving as he headed back towards the sick-bay.

Adeline continued through the camp, spotting Athras nearby with an unfamiliar Dalish woman. The two were chatting animatedly, glancing up at Adeline's approach. "Grey Warden, hello," Athras greeted, getting to his feet and taking Adeline's hands in his. "I must thank you. _We_ must thank you – Danyla has returned to me," the old man grinned, wrapping an arm around his wife's waist as she stood next to him.

"I hope you can forgive me for attacking you," Danyla added, and Adeline shook her head hurriedly.

"Oh, no, Danyla, you weren't yourself – I can't hold that against you," the girl said, and the two hunters smiled warmly at her.

"You have saved our clan, da'len, and reunited us. We owe you a great deal," Athras bowed to her. "When you call upon us to battle the darkspawn, every hunter will stand by you," he vowed, and Adeline smiled softly, heartened by their words.

"That is all I can ask of you," the Grey Warden replied. She bade the two farewell as she returned to her group's section of the camp, sitting down next to Alistair as she found him by their tent, writing a letter.

"I'm sending a missive to Arl Eamon with one of the Dalish runners," he explained, seeing Adeline's curious look. "She says that with a halla, she can reach Redcliffe in less than a week," he added, and Adeline's eyes widened.

"Wow…" the Elf murmured, looked towards the halla pens. "So what now?" she added, leaning lightly against his arm as Alistair finished the letter.

"Well…we go to Denerim," Alistair replied. "Eamon told me that he'd send someone to prepare his estate for us – it's near the Market District, so we won't have to worry about being recognized in the Palace District," he explained, and Adeline nodded slowly.

"So he'll meet us there, and we'll prepare for the Landsmeet, then," she murmured, and Alistair sighed.

"…yes," he mumbled, not seeming to like the idea.

"Alistair," Adeline said gently, "you'll be a wonderful king." He looked at her for a long time, and she placed a hand on his cheek, smiling reassuringly.

"I hope so," he sighed, "I really do."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	48. Chapter 48: A Slippery Slope

Chapter 48

A Slippery Slope

Author's note:

Thank you, as always, to those who have reviewed, followed and favorited - I might not say much about it, but it really means a lot to me.

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[Cloudreach – spring]

The group of travelers left the Dalish camp the next morning, flanked by a small company of hunters and their halla, who guided them through the Brecilian. Alistair and Leliana sat in the back of the wagon with Wynne and Morrigan, while the others walked around the cart, making sure the wheels didn't get stuck in sudden dips in the ground, or get caught among tree roots.

"Katja, did you get a new crossbow?" Adeline asked, glancing to her right – Katja was sitting next to her in the driver's seat, inspecting her weapon. The Dwarf smiled slightly, shaking her head as she turned the crossbow over.

"No – one of the Dalish craftsmen modified it for me," she explained. Gunnhild was now a mix of dark, blue-black wood and its original iron and wood frame. "Master Varathorn even let me have a bit of input into the design," she added. While Katja had watched the Elf craftsman working on Gunnhild, a stroke of inspiration had hit her – she wasn't a smith, but had hurriedly begun sketching out a design before she forgot. The result was a crossbow with a rotating cylinder in the center, which held up to six bolts at a time for rapid fire.

As the casteless girl babbled out the specifics of her design to Adeline, Neria sidled over to Zevran, taking the gloves she had gotten from Varathorn out of her pocket and looking at them. They were green leather with gold embroidery along the length, lined with quilted padding on the inside to prevent chaffing when using a bow or blades. She smiled slightly, prodding Zevran's arm to get his attention before handing him the gloves.

"Gloves? You're giving me gloves? What for?" the assassin asked oddly, turning the gloves slowly in his hands, his gaze moving over the material with a practiced eye.

"I thought you might like them?" Neria tried, smiling as she waited for him to realize it.

"I did not mean to sound ungrateful, it is just…" Zevran trailed off as his gaze followed the pattern of the embroidery. "Wait, I see it now. These are Dalish, no? Much like the gloves that belonged to my mother," he breathed, a slow smile spreading over his lips as he looked at the gloves. "The leather was less thick, and it had more embroidery…but these are very close. And quite handsome," he added, looking back at Neria, who planted a quick peck on his cheek.

"You're welcome," she murmured, and he chuckled.

"Do I seem surprised? Perhaps I am," Zevran admitted, sliding the gloves onto his hands and balling them into fists, testing the stretch of the leather. "Still, I appreciate the fact that you even thought of me. Few people have simply…given me a gift before. Thank you."

oOo

We left the Brecilian after a few more days of travel, waving farewell to the hunters as we parted by the edge of the forest. Alistair had recovered enough to walk, but Wynne told Leliana that she should stay off her leg for another few days.

"Just sitting makes me so restless," Leliana complained to me as she sat behind the driver's seat, watching the sky. Morrigan sat beside me, scribbling notes into her black book, looking up as she noticed my gaze – I had glanced back at Alistair, smiling slightly as his eyes met mine.

"Well…why don't you tell us a story or something?" I replied, which cheered the bard slightly. She descended into the story of Aveline the Brave, turning to face the others as they listened.

"Do you realize that you have been smiling for hours, now?" Morrigan asked me, and I gave her a sidelong glance, cocking an eyebrow.

"Have I?" I remarked, my smile widening into a smirk as she rolled her eyes.

"Since the last time you and that fool, Alistair, shot glances at each other, in fact," she replied, nodding back towards the Templar as he and the others were captivated by Leliana's story. "He must be pleasant enough in bed, for surely I cannot imagine anyone enduring his conversation," Morrigan added, and I chuckled.

"He isn't as unintelligent as you think, Morrigan," I teased, and a ghost of a smile raised the corner of her mouth.

"Oh no? Forgive me for not indulging in lengthy conversations with a man who would rather chop off my head, then," she replied wryly.

"I happen to love him, you know," I added, and she leaned back against the seat, glancing down into her book and scrawling something in her odd script.

"Hm. More's the pity for you, then," she murmured. "'Tis a bit sickening to watch you two, but I imagine it at least takes your mind from our…situation. Have it your way," she added, and I smirked, crossing my arms.

"Thanks for the permission," I replied, and she clucked her tongue.

"Perhaps I should be thankful that you are not as… _vocal_ as the other two," Morrigan added aside, and I made a face as she glanced at the pair of Elves in question. We were quiet for a while, and she let out a long sigh.

"Something wrong?" I asked, cringing as the wagon hit a sharp bump – we had just hit the west road, and were now on cobblestones.

"'Tis a curious thing. I do not know how else to describe it," Morrigan shrugged, and I smirked.

"Oh? Did you have your first feeling?" I teased, and she laughed – it was such a rare, beautiful sound, and I smiled; it was a shame she didn't laugh more often.

"That would be rather unlikely, would it not?" she chuckled, closing her book and folding her hands on top of it, a faint smile on her lips. "I am reminded of our first meeting in the Wilds," she explained. "I had been in animal form for some time, watching your progress. I was intrigued to see such a formidable woman – obviously more potent than the men she traveled with," she recalled, letting out a small sigh. "Yet I resented it when Flemeth assigned me to travel with you. I assumed that, at best, you would drive me from your company as soon as we left the Wilds," she admitted.

"Why would I do that?" I asked gently, and she shrugged.

"I am aware that I have…little talent for forming friendships. To put it lightly; 'Tis something I know nothing of, nor ever thought I needed," she admitted. "Yet when I discovered Flemeth's plans, you did not abandon me. Whatever your reasons, you fought what must have been a terrible battle without hope of real reward." Her eyes were troubled as she looked at me, and I very gently placed my hand over hers – I knew she didn't like people being this close to her, but she didn't move her hand away at my touch.

"I did it because I'm your friend," I replied earnestly, and she glanced down at my hand.

"And that is what I do not understand," she said, looking back at me. "Of all the things I could have imagined would have resulted when Flemeth told me to go with you, the very last would have been that I would find in you a friend. Perhaps even a sister." Morrigan's troubled expression melted away, and a small, genuine smile spread across her lips. "I want you to know that while I may not always prove… _worthy_ …of your friendship, I will always value it," she murmured, taking my hand gently between her fingers. "But enough of such idle talk. There are more useful things to be done, surely," she added quickly, and I chuckled at this newfound shyness.

oooo

We reached Denerim three days later, at the beginning of Cloudreach. The spring sun and a fresh wind from the Brecilian warmed our backs as we entered the city – even after all we had done, the wanted posters for Alistair and myself were still inaccurate. They hadn't even acknowledged that we were traveling with a large group, and I wondered at the state of Loghain's information network.

"That's something that you'll have to change, once you're king," I advised to Alistair as I drove the wagon through the crowded market. Everyone was sitting inside of the cart, nearly on top of one another – the streets were so packed that we didn't want to get separated.

"What, improving the spy network?" Alistair chuckled as he rested back against the seat next to me, an arm draped lightly over my shoulders as I leaned against him.

"Or _create_ one – It's been almost a year now, and aside from a few bounty hunters and Zevran, we haven't really been attacked," I replied. "I suggest you name Zevran or Leliana spymaster," I added, and Leliana chuckled as she heard us.

"Oh no, I'm heading back to Orlais first thing – I need to tie up some loose ends, and clean up Marjolaine's mess," she said.

"Hmm…speaking of cleaning up," I murmured, "we'll need to start rebuilding the order, once all of this is done," I said, glancing at Alistair.

"Yes. We'll have to find Grey Wardens from other countries to help us, though – I don't know how to do the Joining," Alistair agreed, and I sighed.

"But maybe we shouldn't get too ahead of ourselves," I cautioned. "We need to make sure there's a future at all."

I parked the wagon outside of Eamon's estate, hopping down and talking to one of the guards, who had been expecting us. Once the wagon was inside of the estate grounds, we were brought to the main hall, where the steward and head maid introduced themselves, telling us the layout of the estate and having serving girls show us to our rooms. "Arl Eamon's missive reached us a few days ago," the steward informed Alistair and me. "He will arrive by the end of the week. Until then, you have leave of the estate."

The days seemed to drag by at an agonizingly slow pace as we waited Arl Eamon's arrival. The Alienage was still closed off when I went to ask about it; apparently, the guards thought that the Elves had some sort of plague, and the entire district had been quarantined until further notice. Things weren't sitting well with me – it was very sketchy, I thought – but I didn't want to get caught trying to sneak into the Alienage and investigate; it would only drag everyone into trouble, so I occupied my time with either reading in the library, or sparring with the estate guards in the courtyard.

oOo

Zevran swore under his breath; someone had seen and recognized him while he was in Adeline or Alistair's company – when he returned to his room for the evening, a single crow feather had been placed on his pillow, along with an address. _A warning? Or a threat,_ he though as he gritted his teeth, nearly leaping out of his skin as the door creaked open behind him. "Madre de _Dios_ , _llamad_ antes de abrir la puerta!" he shouted at whoever had opened the door.

"S-sorry!" Neria squeaked, startled. Zevran stared at her for a few moments, running his hands through his hair as he tried to calm down. "Zevran, what's wrong?" Neria asked softly, moving to his side in a heartbeat. She stared at the crow feather on the writing desk, and the assortment of blades, grenades and poisons the assassin had dug out of his pack. "They found you…" she breathed, running over to her own bag and undressing, pulling on her Dalish armor and tying up her hair.

"Neria no – I cannot ask you to come with me," Zevran said, grabbing her hands as she reached for her bow.

"Nonsense Zevran. You're going to get yourself killed," Neria argued. The assassin cupped her face between his hands, looking deep into her eyes.

"I do not want you in danger," he almost pleaded, his eyes holding fear for the first time Neria could recall – fear for _her_.

"Zevran…I've already lost Tamlen by not being there when he needed me," she whispered, placing her hands over his. "I'll not leave your side."

Zevran let out a long sigh, hearing the determination in her tone as she looked at him. "Mujer obstinada…" he chuckled softly, shaking his head and kissing her. Neria sensed something different about this kiss – it felt softer, almost tender, and it worried her; did he think they wouldn't make it out of this alive? "Come with me – we must move quickly; if I ignore this, they might attack the estate directly," Zevran warned, buckling on his weapons once he finished with his armor, sticking the crow feather and address into his pocket and opening the window of his room.

The two Elves made their way through the Market District, slipping into an alleyway and finding the address – a building at the back of a courtyard, where a large set of stairs stood, leading to a higher street level. Zevran narrowed his eyes; standing there, his hair nearly black in the moonlight, was Taliesen. The lightly-armored Crow stroked his neatly trimmed beard, looking Zevran over coolly, his gaze drifting to Neria and lingering over the Dalish armor and bow in her hands.

"And here is our lost agent, sans his Grey Warden master," Taliesen spoke mockingly, walking slowly down the stairs. "The Crows send their greetings." Zevran's eyes did a quick sweep of the area – six archers sitting on rooftops nearby, and another six swordsmen on the ground, flanking the pair of Elves; Taliesen made the thirteenth as he slowly drew his longsword, tapping the flat of the blade across his palm and inspecting it as moonlight painted the metal blue.

"So they sent you, Taliesen? Or did you volunteer for the job?" Zevran asked, drawing his pair of blades, the metal slick with poison that glimmered in the faint torchlight from the nearby outdoor braziers.

"I volunteered, of course," Taliesen chuckled, smirking at his former comrade. "When I heard that the great Zevran had gone rogue, I simply had to see it for myself."

"Is that so? Well here I am, in the flesh," Zevran replied.

"I can see why you follow her – the little Warden girl," Taliesen began, his eyes darkening as he watched Zevran. "The resemblance is…remarkable indeed. Perhaps I would have done the same…" he added more softly. "But you can return with me, Zevran. I know why you did this, and I don't blame you," Taliesen offered, and the Elf rogue raised an eyebrow. "It's not too late. Come back and we'll make up a story. Anyone can make a mistake."

"Of course, Adeline and Alistair would need to be dead, first," Neria snorted, her grip tightening on her bow as she glared up at the Crow.

"And I'm not about to let that happen," Zevran growled, getting into a fighting stance.

"What? You've gone soft!" Taliesen shouted in disbelief, looking at Zevran incredulously.

"I'm sorry, my old friend. But the answer is no. I'm not coming back…and you should have stayed in Antiva." Zevran darted forward, dodging and ducking arrows as he charged Taliesen, meeting the man in a clash of steel as their blades shrieked and sparked. Neria danced out of the way as the fire focused on her, and she threw a smoke grenade on the ground, covering her mouth as the swordsmen were blinded.

Screams and shouts echoed through the alleyway as the twelve Crows attacked Neria – Taliesen had been adamant about taking Zevran alone, should he not agree to come with them. The archers didn't notice the pair of shadows behind them until at least three of them fell, their throats slit before they could blink, and the other three were felled with crossbow bolts in their eyes.

"Katja? Adeline?" Neria gasped as she spotted the pair of rogues on opposite rooftops.

"Hold on, reloading!" Katja called as Adeline leapt down from the roof, landing on one of the swordsman with her blades in his back, using him to cushion her landing. "I'll cover you!" the Dwarf hollered, firing at the melee fighters.

"Not _just_ Katja and Adeline, mind you." Morrigan's voice came from a large raven as it spiraled downwards, transforming mid-air and crashing amongst the swordsman as a bear, roaring and charging the terrified men. The courtyard erupted in confusion as shrieks and screams echoed off the walls.

Zevran and Taliesen fought up and down the stairs, leaping over leg-hold traps as they exchanged furious attacks. "You're too soft," Taliesen snarled at Zevran, "you should have used something _lethal_." He had been cut across the arm by one of Zevran's blades, but the poison seemed to be only a mild paralytic.

"You should know me better than that, Taliesen," Zevran chided, clucking his tongue. "Or have you forgotten who gave me my surname?"

Before the man could respond, he felt his heart shudder – it was as if an icy claw had reached into his chest and grabbed it. He stared at Zevran as he clenched his teeth in pain, shivering as his entire body was suddenly on fire. The muscles in his legs gave out, and he tumbled down the steps, landing on his back and staring up at the sky.

Zevran walked slowly down the stairs, leaning over his old friend and taking his hand, placing it over the Crow's heart and slipping the crow feather between his trembling fingers. "Descansa en paz, mi hermano," Zevran whispered, closing Taliesen's eyes as his heart stopped, followed by a long, slow release of breath.

The Elf looked at the chaos in the courtyard, finding that the remaining Crows had fallen. Adeline, Katja and Morrigan had followed him and Neria here, and were now burning the bodies of the dead assassins. Zevran let out a long sigh as Adeline walked over to him, looking at Taliesen – she recognized him, and looked at Zevran sympathetically.

"I'm sorry, Zevran," she murmured gently. "No one should have to kill their brother." Zevran ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a few moments before looking back down at the body, shaking his head.

"But there it is. Taliesen is dead, and I am free of the Crows," he breathed. "They will assume that I am dead along with Taliesen. So long as I do not make my presence known to them, they will not seek me out."

"That's…a good thing, right?" Adeline asked softly; Zevran's tone was carefully neutral as he spoke, and Adeline couldn't read his expression. The assassin saw the uncertainty in his friend's eyes and gave a small, sad smile, nodding slightly.

"A very good thing," he confirmed, crossing his arms. "It is, in fact, what I had hoped for ever since you decided not to kill me," he added. "I think, however, that I could also stay here. I made an oath to help you, after all. And saving the world seems a worthy task to see through to the end, yes?"

Adeline smiled slightly, patting his arm gently. "Only if that's what you want, Zevran. I hereby release you from your oath – I won't force you to stay if you want to leave," she said softly, and Zevran chuckled, patting her shoulder.

"If I am free, then I shall stay," he replied. "I'm with you until the end…provided you do not tire of me first," he added in a lighter tone. "Or I die. Or you die," he smirked at her look of chagrin. "But there you go. Let us return to the estate for the eve, yes?"

"Good thought," Adeline said. Morrigan finished cremating the Crows' remains, and the five headed back to the Arl's estate. Zevran and Neria walked side by side through the narrow alleyways as the others led the way, and Neria glanced over as she noticed Zevran rolling something over in his fingers. He sensed her gaze, taking her hand and placing the object in her palm.

"Here…it seems an appropriate moment to give you this," he said, and Neria opened her hand, looking at the object – it was Zevran's earring.

"This is…your earring?" she asked, and the assassin nodded slightly.

"I acquired it on my very first job for the Crows," he replied. "My mark was a Rivaini merchant prince – he was wearing a single, jeweled earring when I killed him," Zevran recalled. "In fact, that's about _all_ he was wearing," he added, and Neria chuckled. "I thought it was beautiful, and took it to mark the occasion. I've kept it since…and I'd like you to have it."

"It's beautiful, Zevran," Neria whispered, and Zevran looked suddenly nervous.

"Don't…get the wrong idea about it, querida," he said quickly. "You helped me kill Taliesen. As far as the Crows will be concerned, I died with him. That means I'm free, at least for now," he added. "Feel free to sell it, or wear it…or whatever you'd like. It's really the least I could give you in return," he mumbled the last part, and Neria raised an eyebrow.

"So… _not_ a token of affection, then?" she asked, and he looked at her, his eyes darkening.

"I…look, just…just _take_ it," he insisted, and Neria frowned. "It's meant a lot to me, but so have…so has what you've done. Please, take it."

"I'll only take it if it means something," Neria replied firmly, and Zevran scowled at the Elf.

"You are a very frustrating woman to deal with, do you know that?" he was suddenly angry, and the others glanced back as his voice rose a bit. "We pick up every other bit of treasure we come across, but not this," he scoffed, plucking the earring from her fingers and putting it back on. "You don't _want_ earring? You don't _get_ earring. Very simple," he grumbled. "¿Por qué me enamoro de una mujer tan terca?" he muttered under his breath as he shook his head, speeding up his step so that he was walking next to Katja.

Neria looked at him in confusion. _What…what did I do?_ she wondered, frowning as her heart suddenly hurt. _I've made him angry. I should have just taken the earring…_ she thought, remaining silent for the rest of the trip back to the estate. As everyone returned to their rooms for the night, Neria paused, looking at Zevran as he stopped by the door to his room. He looked back at her, his eyes carrying a mix of emotions that the woman couldn't identify, and she looked down, following Katja to her room.

"Can I bunk with you tonight?" the Elf asked as she heard Zevran close his door behind them. Katja glanced back towards the other room, nodding gently and taking Neria's hand.

"Just give him some time," the Dwarf murmured as they headed to her room. "He needs to figure out what he's feeling."

oOo

Arl Eamon arrived the next morning, calling Alistair and me to the hall once the servants unpacked his wagon. Alistair and Eamon were waiting for me in the main hall, and I nodded in greeting as Eamon spoke. "Denerim is the heart and soul of Ferelden. If we defeat Loghain here, the rest of the nation will follow us," Eamon began, and I nodded, listening intently as he slowly paced before us. "By calling the Landsmeet, I've struck the first blow – the advantage, for the moment, is ours. Loghain will have little choice but to show himself, to oppose us directly. He _will_ strike back at us; the only question that remains is how soon?" Eamon sighed, glancing up as a serving girl trotted into the hall, looking flustered as she hurried in.

"My Arl, the regent is here!" she gasped out, and my eyes widened in surprise. _Wow, that was fast,_ I thought, glancing back at Eamon and Alistair.

"Very well, let him in," Eamon replied, his shoulders tense.

"Maker's breath, he must have been waiting for Arl Eamon to arrive," I murmured to Alistair, who nodded slightly, his eyes fixed on the doors.

Loghain came into the main hall a few moments later, flanked by an armored woman and grey-haired man with a thin nose; Eamon greeted them politely, although I could hear the caution in his voice. "Loghain. This is…an honor, that the regent would find time to greet me personally," Eamon said, greeting the dark-haired man.

"How could I _not_ welcome a man so important as to call every lord in Ferelden away from his estates while a Blight claws at our land?" Loghain retorted, sarcasm in his tone as he looked at Eamon with a hint of disdain.

"The Blight is why I'm here," the Arl said coolly. "With Cailan dead, Ferelden _must_ have a king to lead it against the darkspawn," he argued, and Loghain's eyes narrowed slightly, darting to Alistair before looking back at Eamon.

"Ferelden has a strong leader – its _queen_. And _I_ lead her armies," Loghain replied, his tone firm.

"Considering Ostagar, perhaps we need a better general," I muttered, unable to catch the snide remark before it slipped out. Loghain glanced over at my words, the ghost of a smug smile on his lips as he greeted me.

"Ah, the Grey Warden recruit – I thought we might meet again," he said, his eyes cold as he looked over me. "You have my sympathies on what happened to your order. It is unfortunate that they chose to turn against Ferelden," he added, and I felt my jaw tighten. I stood up a little straighter, narrowing my eyes disdainfully at the man.

"I don't accept the sympathies of deserters and regicides," I replied, my voice icy-calm, and Loghain's eyes hardened at my defiance.

"You should curb your tongue. This is _my_ city, and no safe place to speak treason. For _anyone_ ," he retorted, looking back at Eamon challengingly. "There is talk that your illness left you feeble, Eamon. Some worry that you may no longer be fit to advise Ferelden."

"Illness?" Eamon scoffed, crossing his arms. "Why not call your poison by its true name? Not everyone at the Landsmeet will cast aside their loyalties as easily as you and these…sycophants," Eamon added, looking with disdain at the older, grey-haired man with the thin nose.

"How long you've been gone from court, Eamon! Don't you recognize Rendon Howe, Arl of Amaranthine, and Teyrn of Highever?" Loghain asked, indicating the man. _Teyrn of Highever? But…what about the Couslands?_ I thought, a pit of ice forming in my stomach as Howe smiled – this man looked like a snake that had happened upon an unguarded bird's nest.

" _And_ current Arl of Denerim, since Urien's unfortunate fate at Ostagar. The regent has been…generous to those who prove loyal." The man's voice carried a smugness that made my blood boil, and I couldn't help but speak up.

"So you're the one who's been 'taking care of' the Elves?" I asked, my tone harsh, and the man looked at me with distaste, as if I were something he'd scrape off the bottom of his boot.

"When the animals turn against their masters, it is sometimes necessary to…cull the herd," Howe replied, and I crossed my arms.

"Well look here now. The regent's got himself a talking _ass_ ," I snorted, and the younger woman who stood nearby narrowed her eyes at my tone.

"Don't interrupt, churl. Your betters are talking," she barked, and Loghain held up a hand.

"Enough, Cauthrien, this is not the time or place," the regent said quietly, and the woman apologized, standing down. "I had hoped to talk you down from this rash course, Eamon," Loghain continued, looking back at Arl Eamon. "Our people are frightened: Our king is dead. Our land is under siege. We must be united now, if we are to endure this crisis. Your own _sister_ , Queen Rowan, fought tirelessly to see Ferelden restored. Would you see her work destroyed?" the man asked. "You divide our nation and weaken our efforts against the Blight with your selfish ambitions to the throne," Loghain accused, and I looked up at Loghain steadily.

"What efforts can there be when you outlaw the Grey Wardens?" I asked, almost incredulously.

"Cailan depended on the Grey Warden's prowess against the darkspawn, and look how well _that_ ended. Let us speak of reality, rather than tall tales. Stories will not save us," Loghain replied.

"I cannot forgive what you've done, Loghain. Perhaps the Maker can, but not I," Eamon sighed, looking at Loghain firmly. "Our people deserve a king of the Theirin bloodline. Alistair will be the one to lead us to victory in this Blight."

"Oh, is that all I have to do? No pressure…" I heard Alistair mutter under his breath.

"The emperor of Orlais also thought I could not bring him down. Expect no more mercy than I showed _him_. There is _nothing_ I would not do for my homeland," Loghain said firmly. I watched as they turned to go, and a small, smug smile crept across my lips. I simply couldn't help myself.

"You should lock your windows better," I remarked mockingly, and the regent paused, looking back at me. A flash of…something – maybe fear, maybe realization, mixed with outrage – flitted through the man's eyes for a moment. He turned and left without a word. Eamon and Alistair were looking at me, wondering what had just happened, and I shrugged.

Eamon let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging slightly once we were alone in the hall. "Well, that was…bracing. I didn't expect Loghain to show himself quite so soon," he admitted.

"His demeanor is that of a man whose mind is slipping," I remarked. _I guess my visit might have played a part in unsettling him, though it's more likely he's been taking to drink more and more._ "Too bad we can't just wait it out. Anyhow, what do we do now?" I added, returning my attention to Eamon, who crossed his arms.

"Calling the Landsmeet is only the start. Now we must ensure that every noble there sees Loghain's duplicity," Eamon began, pacing slowly back and forth before us. "We have no small task ahead of us. We need eyes and ears in the city. Loghain has been here for months; the roots of all his schemes _must_ begin here. The sooner we find them, the better we can turn them to our advantage," Eamon added, and I nodded.

"I'll ask around, see if my connections can dig anything up," I said, and Alistair gave me a look.

"Your connections?" he asked teasingly, and I grinned.

"What? I know people – a barkeep by the docks can hear more gossip than an Orlesian noblewoman during the Empress's spring salon," I replied.

"That's a good start. You should also find the nobles who have arrived for the Landsmeet – test the waters, see how many will support us," Eamon suggested. "When you're ready to talk strategy, come upstairs to my sitting room. We can lay out our plans for the Landsmeet then," he added, and Alistair and I nodded.

oooo

The next day, I headed out to the Market District. I was looking for Slim – he was good at picking up gossip, and I wanted to hear what was going on around the city. I found him out by Goldanna's house, leaning nonchalantly against the wall and rolling a copper bit over his knuckles, keeping an eye open for any potential marks.

"Hey, Tabby, welcome home. I hear you've been building yourself quite an army," Slim greeted me, and I sighed wearily as I walked up to him.

"With luck it'll just be the _darkspawn_ tasting our steel, and not Loghain's men. Psh, stupid nobles and their civil war," I spat, shaking my head.

"Heh, speaking of 'steel', if you'll pardon the pun…" Slim began, and my eyes flashed with eagerness.

"You got that job ready for me?" I asked, and Slim nodded, a cat-like grin across his face.

"One more swipe and no one will _ever_ forget it. I guarantee you'll love it. 6 sovereigns," he said, and I handed him the coins.

"Well? Out with it!" I prompted, and he laughed at my eagerness.

"Teyrn Loghain is out in the field; left yesterday I heard. I figure you'd like to get back at him, right?" Slim asked, and I nodded. _So he just stopped by to threaten Eamon before checking on his troops?_ I mused, trying not to snort – Loghain didn't take our threat seriously at all.

"You bet," I replied, and Slim chuckled.

"Word is that his seneschal has been getting the Teyrn's crown all nice and sparkly for the Landsmeet," he continued. "The seneschal is taking a bit of a rest at the Gnawed Noble Tavern, but he won't be there long," Slim added, and I listened intently. "He has a heavy guard, but if you can make off with the tyrant's own crown – think of the embarrassment! That's all I know. I hope it's enough!" Slim grinned, seeing the spark in my eye.

"Oh, Slim I could _kiss_ you right now! This will be _perfect!_ " I laughed, clapping him on the shoulder before trotting off to the tavern. I calmed myself down, settling down the emotions enough to keep a straight face. I entered the place, seeing groups of finely-dressed attendants. _Ah, looks like some of the members of the Landsmeet are already here,_ I thought, listening to some of the rumors as I went by. Apparently, the nobility was conflicted over Loghain's recent actions…but also didn't think much of the Grey Wardens, or Alistair's claim to the throne.

I walked towards the bar, leaning against it and ordering a drink, glancing into the room to my left out of the corner of my eye. Loghain's men were there, standing about, and I supposed the seneschal was further inside. _They'll recognize me in an instant if I walk in there. Hmm…I've still got some of that sleeping draught Zevran gave me…_ I thought, pulling the vial of red liquid out of my side-pouch and sliding it into my sleeve.

I called up one of the waitresses, a girl with short, fluffy blonde hair, and she smiled charmingly as she greeted me. "How can I help you, m'lady?" she asked, and I pointed towards the back room.

"The guards want a round of drinks," I said, and she crossed her arms, nodding.

"Got it. One round of drinks. What type?" she prompted, and I thought for a moment.

"What's the strongest you've got?" I asked, and the woman scoffed.

"Are they serious? We're not some cheap, dockside tavern, you know?" she huffed, almost insulted. "If they want the strong stuff, the barkeep keeps some Dwarven spirits down below. I'll deliver it straight away," the woman replied. She returned a short while later, and as she passed by, I darted out a hand, dipping a finger into each of the cups; I had placed a drop of the sleeping draught on each fingertip while I was waiting – thankfully there were only four guards and the seneschal.

As she passed the cups around and I heard the men give a toast, I bit my lip, leaning against the counter and ordering myself a drink, trying not to look suspicious. Well, _more_ suspicious than an Elf in a noble-filled tavern. _I hope that wasn't_ _ **too**_ _strong with the sleeping draught – I'd rather not leave dead bodies around here for the poor waitresses to clean up,_ I thought. As I waited for the effects of the sleeping draught to take, I glanced around the tavern, nearly jumping out of my skin; someone had been watching me.

His face was covered by a nondescript brown hood, and he wore elegant clothes in subdued colors, though they looked travel worn. _Oh great. A witness,_ I thought with chagrin. The man seemed to notice my look; I saw his mouth turn up in a small smile as he brought his tankard to his lips, making a point of looking the other way. _Oh? Interesting,_ I thought, glancing back as I heard a thump from the side room.

I made my way over carefully, not wanting to draw attention to myself, and I slipped into the room, where the guards lay scattered about, passed out across the floor. I found the seneschal, taking the crown from the table nearby and wrapping it in cloth. I checked to make sure the men were all still breathing, and I let out a small sigh of relief when they were, heading out once I had tucked the crown safely away.

I returned to the Market District, leaning against the wall and smiling knowingly at Slim, partially unwrapping the crown before tucking it back into my pack. "The Teyrn's crown. Ho, ho! That's rich," he chuckled, shaking his head. "You have to admit that was worth every copper you paid me, eh? They're calling you 'The Dark Wolf'. What do you think of that?" Slim added, and I smiled. "Ha. Too bad no one can know; you could get a lot of action. There's nothing more I can offer you like that," he said, and I shrugged, letting out a content sigh.

"That's alright. I think I'm satisfied," I replied, bidding him farewell and heading back to the estate. _Now…I just need to figure out how I can get some of those nobles on_ _ **our**_ _side, come time for the Landsmeet,_ I thought, running a hand through my hair, lost in thought.

oooo

I sat in my room that evening, polishing my blades and leaning back in my chair, feet up on the desk and wearing Loghain's crown, the gold and gems glimmering in the candlelight. Olan was lying on the couch, snoring loudly, and I rolled my eyes as the mabari snorted, rolling over and kicking his legs in the air as he dreamt. "Ugh, the cushions are going to stink now," I laughed, clucking my tongue at the dog as he woke up, shaking his head and flapping his ears about. He sniffed at the air, hopping off the couch and trotting to the door, scratching at it.

"You're going to be out there for five minutes, and then you'll want to come back in," I remarked, rolling my eyes as the dog scratched insistently against the wood, sitting down and glancing up at me. I took off the crown, tossing my polishing cloth over it and standing, walking over to the door. "Alright. But don't break into the larder again. The cook will have my head," I said, opening the door for the hound. He trotted off, wagging his stubby tail and heading towards the kitchens. "Were you even listening to me?" I called, grinning as the dog barked back. "Cheeky mutt," I snorted, crossing my arms and leaning against the doorframe.

"Ah, Lady Tabris!" someone called, and I glanced down towards the other end of the hall. A serving girl trotted up to me, curtseying slightly. "Arl Eamon would like to see you in his office," she said, and I nodded.

"I'll be right down," I replied, returning to my room for a few moments, trying to make myself presentable. I brushed my hair and straightened out my clothes, following the girl as she led me down the hall to the Arl's office.

Arl Eamon stood by his desk, speaking in hushed tones to a disheveled-looking Elf woman with dark hair and fine clothes. _A handmaiden, maybe? Don't see many Elven handmaidens,_ I thought, bobbing my head in greeting to the Arl. "Ah, miss Tabris. I trust you've made yourself comfortable," the Arl greeted me once I came in.

"Yes. The estate is very nice," I replied politely.

"Good. Because it's likely to be your last rest for a while," Eamon continued, and I tried not to make a face. _Aw…dang it. Something happened, didn't it?_ I thought, almost letting out an exasperated groan. "This is Erlina. She's–" he began, but the Elf spoke up, interrupting him.

"I am Queen Anora's handmaiden. She sent me here to ask for your help," she said in a thick Orlesian accent, and I glanced up at the Arl, raising an eyebrow. _Well that was…rather rude. She_ _ **does**_ _realize who she's with, right?_

"Or perhaps the young lady prefers to speak for herself," Eamon remarked, crossing his arms and glancing back at Erlina.

"Why would Anora ask us for help?" I wondered, watching the woman suspiciously.

"The queen, she is in a difficult position. She loved her husband, no? And trusted her father to protect him," Erlina began. "When he returns with no king and only dark rumors, what is she to think? She worries, no? But when she tries to speak with him, he does not answer. He tells her 'not to trouble herself'," Erlina explained, and I glanced at Eamon for a moment before returning my attention to the woman.

"So…she'd rather side with us than her husband's murderer?" I tried, and Erlina shrugged slightly.

"My queen suspects she cannot trust her father. And Loghain, he is very subtle, no? But Rendon Howe, he is privy to all the secrets and…not so subtle," she continued, and I narrowed my eyes at the mention of Howe. "So she goes to Howe. A visit from the queen to the new Arl of Denerim is only a matter of courtesy. And she demands answers."

"I guess that didn't go so well," I remarked, sarcasm in my tone, and the woman narrowed her eyes slightly at my attitude.

"He calls her every sort of name, 'traitor' being the kindest, and locks her in a guest room," Erlina continued, and I shrugged.

"So…what does this have to do with me?" I asked, wanting to get to the point.

"I think…her life is in danger. I heard Howe say she would be a greater ally dead than alive. Especially if her death could be blamed on Arl Eamon," Erlina replied, and I glanced at the Arl again, who nodded slightly.

"Alright, we have to get her out of there, then," I said.

"Yes. That is what she hoped you would say. Loghain, he has said much about the young Grey Wardens who survived. He is worried, no?" Erlina mentioned, and I snorted.

"As he should be," I muttered, dark fire in my eyes.

"We may have no choice but to trust Anora. The queen is well-loved. If Loghain succeeded in pinning her death on me… I'm not sure that's a risk we can afford to take," Eamon added.

"So, tell me your plan. I hope you've got one," I said, nodding towards Erlina.

"I have some uniforms. Arl Howe hires so many new guards every day, a few more will not cause much stir – even Elven guards," she replied. "I will show you to the servants' entrance. We must slip in and out with my queen before anyone is the wiser. I will go ahead to Howe's estate. Meet me there as soon as you can," Erlina said, sweeping off before I could ask anything else.

Arl Eamon and I watched her go, and I raised an eyebrow at him. "Huh. She…didn't seem to think much of you, my Arl," I remarked, and the Arl shrugged. "I suppose that might be from spending time with Ano…" I caught myself, clearing my throat and nodding slightly, remembering that I was talking to the Arl. "Well!" I said, clapping my hands together. "Breaking into the Arl of Denerim's estate. This is a disaster waiting to happen," I added. _Never thought I'd be breaking into that cursed place,_ I thought wryly.

"It is the only way we can get Anora out, it seems," Eamon replied, and I leaned against the back of one of the large armchairs by his desk.

"Hmm…" I murmured. "I think I'll bring Zevran and Leliana along. They're quiet enough not to be noticed…and with armor, Zevran's tall enough that he might be mistaken for a short human…" I said to myself; I doubted that there would be many Elf or female guards, but I had to make do with what we had. I let out a soft sigh as I thought of what the others would say, glancing back at Eamon. "Arl Eamon, would you please keep this from the others? I'd rather save the lectures about throwing myself into danger until _after_ I've returned," I asked, and the Arl nodded. I bade him farewell, heading down the halls and finding Leliana and Zevran chatting by the stairs.

"Zevran, I saw you looking at that girl in town earlier. What did you think of her?" Leliana asked, twirling her hair around a finger, glancing up at the rogue as he leaned against the banister.

"My dear Leliana, which girl? I saw many and I watched them all," Zevran replied with a grin, and she rolled her eyes.

"You know, the one with the…with the shoes!" she described, her eyes flashing at the mention of shoes.

"The shoes. Yes, good reference," he replied sarcastically.

"Well, she also had blond curls worn in a long braid," Leliana added, and he stroked his chin, nodding slightly.

"A braid? Oh, that one. Yes, I remember her," he recalled.

"So, what did you think? You seemed quite enthralled," Leliana prodded, and Zevran shrugged.

"Well, she was…quite marvelous…" he admitted, "…except for the butter face," he added, and Leliana's brow furrowed slightly at his words.

"The butter what?" she asked, confused.

"Butter face. Everything's marvelous…but her face," Zevran explained, the corner of his mouth curling in a smirk.

"You're a bad man," Leliana snorted, though I could see the hint of amusement in her eyes. I cleared my throat slightly, and the two glanced over. "Ah, didn't see you there," she said, nodding in greeting.

"Something you need, dear Warden?" Zevran added, and I shrugged.

"Up for a bit of breaking and entering?" I asked, and the two looked curiously at me. I motioned for them to follow me to a more private spot, leaning against the wall and crossing my arms. "Alright…if you agree to come, we're going to break into the Arl of Denerim's estate," I began. "Arl Eamon called me to his office a little while ago, and some Elf claiming to be the queen's handmaiden said Anora's in danger. Apparently she's been kidnapped by Arl Howe; we're supposed to break her out," I explained, and the two glanced between one another before looking back at me.

"Why did the Arl come to you? Doesn't Anora have her own soldiers to rescue her?" Leliana asked, and I shrugged.

"They probably wouldn't want to cause an uproar. And besides, _if_ her soldiers attacked the estate, Anora could be killed by Howe before her men got a chance to rescue her. Stealth is the best option, and it seems like Ferelden's spy network is lacking…or nonexistent," I elaborated, and Zevran nodded.

"Ah, so our…expertise is needed," he observed.

"You're the best I know, and I trust you two with my life, should anything happen. Although the point of _stealth_ is that nothing _should_ happen," I murmured the last part to myself. "So…are you in?" I added, and the two were quiet for a moment.

"Of course. I'd never miss something as exciting as this!" Leliana said, grinning like a cat.

"We cannot let you have _all_ the fun, Adeline. And the Arl's estate is bound to be full of valuables," Zevran added, and I laughed.

"Ha! I knew you two would agree. Thanks for watching my back," I smiled. "Now let me get my gear, and we'll set off," I added, trotting back towards my room.

oOo

Alistair walked out of the library – he had just finished reading the volume on oratory Eamon had given him – when a loud crash and a shriek drew his attention. He ran down the hall, his hand instinctively flying to grab his sword and shield, making a face when he realized that he wasn't wearing them; all he had on him was the small dagger Adeline had made him carry in his boot. _Well, better than nothing,_ Alistair thought. He wondered when Wade would be finished with her drake-skin armor, but he brushed the thought away as he stopped by the kitchen door.

A pair of serving girls were standing near the door of the larder, squabbling about something, and Alistair heard a shriek and loud barks coming from the next room. A woman suddenly burst through the door, shutting it quickly behind her, her face white as a sheet. " _Blast_ that dog! Too smart for his own good!" she gasped, glowering at the door – Alistair recognized her as the cook, Marcia. "If he wasn't the lady's hound I'd…" she trailed off as she saw Alistair, who was watching with a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Did Olan get into the larder again?" he asked, walking over as he calmed down; he was relieved that they weren't under attack…but he wasn't sure that he wanted to deal with an angry…or rather bored and mischievous mabari – _especially_ one who was out to get him.

"Lady Tabris's mabari, yes," Marcia almost growled as she glared at the door. "Would you be a dear and see about getting him out? No one will get supper, otherwise," she added sweetly, and Alistair shrugged.

"I don't know – he never seemed to like me much," the man admitted. "I'll go find Adeline – her room's not too far from here," he added, and the woman sighed.

"You do that, thank you," she said, looking back at the door as she heard happy grunting from inside. "No doubt he's helping himself to my beautiful roast as we speak…" she muttered, trying to tame down her messy hair.

Alistair headed down the hall and went upstairs, finding Adeline's room and knocking on the door. When no answer came, he pursed his lips. _I hate to disturb her if she's sleeping…_ he thought, letting out a soft sigh and trying the doorknob. The door was open, and the room was dark; Alistair took a few tentative steps inside, calling out softly. "Adeline? I'm sorry to wake you, dear, but Olan got into the larder, and the cook's going to have a fit."

He paused, squinting towards the bed in the darkness – the bed was made, and glancing towards the couches, he didn't see her sleeping there, either. Alistair went over to the desk, finding some matches and lighting a candle, looking around – the room was empty. "Where _is_ she?" he wondered, looking back at the desk to see if she had left a note or something. An oddly-shaped object was sitting in the middle of the desk, covered in a cloth.

Alistair reached over, pulling the cloth from the object, and nearly leapt out of his skin – it was a polished gold crown, decorated with gleaming gemstones. "Maker's _breath_ …when she said she could steal the Teyrn's crown…I never imagined…" he trailed off, astonishment replaced by hilarity; he let out a laugh at the absolute absurdity of the situation, shaking his head and covering the crown again. _If anyone could do it, it_ _ **would**_ _be her,_ he thought with a chuckle, blowing out the candle and leaving the room. _Seems I'll have to deal with Olan myself, though, until Adeline comes back from wherever she's gone,_ he thought with chagrin.

Marcia glanced up as she heard him return, looking around for Adeline. "Couldn't find her?" she asked, and Alistair shrugged.

"No – she's gone somewhere, I suppose," Alistair replied. "I'll give it a shot, though," he added, taking a deep breath before opening the larder door. Olan was indeed helping himself to the roast, glancing up with a doggy grin as the door swung open. When he saw that it was Alistair, he let out a low growl, narrowing his eyes, and the Templar gave a deep sigh. "Olan, come on, Adeline's going to get mad if she hears about this," the man argued, and Olan scoffed, sitting down adamantly and looking away, his ears flattening against his skull. "Oh, I see," Alistair grumbled.

He took a few cautious steps towards the hound, who growled, but didn't get into an aggressive stance. Alistair slowly sat down, looking at Olan carefully, cocking his head slightly at the dog. "So what _is_ your problem with me, exactly?" he asked, and Olan looked at him with what Alistair could only describe as incredulity. "Is this… _really_ about Adeline and me?" the man added softly, and the low, rumbling growl was all the information he needed.

A slow grin spread across Alistair's face as he realized something. "You're…you're _jealous_ , aren't you? You're _actually_ jealous," he said, and Olan growled again, louder this time. "Maker's breath, my rival is a dog. I don't know how to take that," he chuckled, and Olan grunted something, standing and walking over to Alistair. He stalked right up to the man, standing so that their faces were only an inch apart, and gave him the most serious look he could muster. Alistair held his challenging gaze unwaveringly, and the dog gave a soft snort, seeming satisfied.

He let out a short bark before trotting out of the room. From what Alistair could gather, the look had meant 'if you ever hurt her, I'll tear your throat out'. He stood, brushing himself off and heading out of the larder, apologizing for the mess Olan had caused, and began searching for Adeline. He suddenly had the feeling that she was getting into trouble, wherever she was.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	49. Chapter 49: Dangerous Type

Chapter 49

Dangerous Type

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

We headed out of the estate and down some side streets, trying to keep out of sight. "So the others…they do not know about this?" Leliana asked as we walked, and I shook my head.

"No. Eamon can explain it to them, if they come asking," I replied, and she chuckled slightly.

"The poor Arl," she said, glancing around at the dark alleyway, stepping lightly over some broken wooden boards.

"Indeed," Zevran nodded.

"Oh, quiet you two," I laughed, "Alistair would _kill_ me if he knew what I was doing. I'm going to get an earful from Wynne and Neria when we get back, too; I just know it." We were silent as we walked, and I glanced back as I got the feeling we were being followed. The others noticed it too, and I nodded. When we came to an alleyway that split into two branches, I took one side, and Zevran and Leliana went down the other.

 _Ah, following me, eh?_ I thought, glancing over my shoulder at the dark, cloaked figure following me. _Oh? Isn't he the one from the Gnawed Noble?_ When I walked down the alley for a good length I stopped, turning around and crossing my arms, my muscles tense and ready to spring, should the person attack. "If you're looking for easy pickings, you're very much mistaken," I remarked, and the hooded figure paused as they stood before me.

"Indeed I would be, if that was my goal," a young man's voice replied. He reached a hand up, lowering his hood and looking at me with deep, grey-blue eyes. He had long, dark brown hair, and a short goatee decorating his strong jaw. His face was worn, and carried a deep sadness in it, but he had a very regal air about him – his eyes still held power in their stormy depths. He looked…familiar, oddly enough, but I couldn't quite place why – I doubted that I had ever met him before. "You are the Grey Warden, Adeline Tabris, are you not?" he asked, and I narrowed my eyes slightly.

"…yes. And who are you?" I murmured, glancing around slightly. _I hope this isn't an ambush,_ I thought warily, and he held up a hand.

"Peace, my friend," he said calmly, and I raised an eyebrow. "I saw Erlina run from the Arl of Denerim's estate earlier. When I saw where she was headed, I put two and two together," he explained. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Aedan Cousland, the Teyrn of Highever," he said, pausing for a moment. "Or…at least I _would_ be, if not for Arl Howe," the man added, his eyes burning with hatred at the mention of the name.

"…Cousland? Wait, _Cousland?_ " I exclaimed, covering my mouth and keeping my voice down. "I heard that the Couslands were all killed!" I gasped, and Aedan's eyes went dark.

"Howe _wishes_ we were all dead," he muttered. "The _bastard_ stormed our castle when my father sent most of our forces to Ostagar with my brother, Fergus. I…was the only one who escaped," Aedan's voice dropped as he said the last part, a haunted look in his eyes.

"Fergus…?" I echoed, my mind flashing to the barkeep that worked at my tavern. "Wait, wait," I said, holding up a hand, and Aedan looked at me curiously. "Dark brown hair with a bit of red in it, square jaw, hazel eyes?" I described, and the man stared at me.

"You…you _know_ my brother?" he exclaimed.

"Yes…yes I see it now – you have the same nose," I observed.

"I thought Fergus died at Ostagar…" Aedan murmured, his eyes shining with relief.

"He's alive and well; he's staying in Redcliffe, along with some friends of his," I explained.

"Friends?" Aedan asked.

"A man named Roland and a woman named Celia," I replied, and Aedan's shoulders slumped as he let out a soft laugh of disbelief, covering his mouth as his eyes misted over.

"Maker's breath…they're still alive…" he whispered, taking a few slow breaths as he calmed himself. "Then we have witnesses against Howe, should my claim be brought into question," he added, looking back at me. "You're going to the Arl of Denerim's estate. Where Howe is," he said, glancing back at me.

"I…see," I remarked, looking up at him. "You want revenge."

"You're damned _right_ I want revenge," he growled. "Howe destroyed everything I held dear. He murdered my family in cold blood. He will pay for his crimes."

"Alright, alright, calm down," I said, raising my hands. "How do I know I can trust you?" I asked; I liked Fergus, but what if this was a trap? A very _elaborate_ trap, but still…

"I suppose you can't," Aedan admitted, "but the enemy of my enemy is my friend, yes?" he argued, and I pursed my lips.

"You've got a point there, I guess," I replied.

"If you take me along, I promise I'll keep out of your way. I might not look it, but I can move quiet as an Antivan Crow," he added, and I smiled slightly at his words.

"I guess another pair of hands would be good to have if the guards figure out who we are. I'll leave Howe to you, then…Teyrn Cousland," I said, bowing slightly.

"There's no need, Warden. Aedan is fine," the man replied, taking my hand as I offered it. "Once my Teyrnir has been restored to me, or to Fergus, I promise that the Couslands will aid you against the Blight in any way that we can," Aedan added, and I grinned.

"Ha! I like you already," I chuckled, patting his arm and motioning for him to follow.

"Ah, wait, I haven't introduced myself yet!" another voice spoke up – a woman's voice – and I glanced around. Aedan gave me a look of amusement, indicating his shoulder, where a small, golden-furred mouse was sitting – I hadn't even detected her mana until now.

"Oh? Shapechanger?" I asked, and the mouse sat on her hind paws, chuckling. She hopped down to the ground, and transformed in a flash of light; before me stood a golden-haired woman with bright blue eyes, a cheeky grin on her face.

"How'd you guess?" she teased, an innocent look on her face. "I'm Selina Amell," she introduced herself with an elegant curtsey, and my eyes widened. I stared at her, and she cocked her head, giving me a curious look.

"You're…Jowan's friend!" I exclaimed, and she started at the name.

"Jowan? He's alive?" she gasped, grabbing my hands and looking into my eyes, trying to see if I was telling her the truth.

"Yes! Jowan told me how you helped him escape," I replied. "But how did _you_ get away?" I added. "He thought the Templars caught you."

Selina pursed her lips, letting out a soft breath as she tucked her arms behind her. "With a lot of luck," she chuckled wryly. "But please, let's not just stand here – once we're done with dearest Aedan's task, you simply _must_ bring me to Jowan. I demand it, even," she grinned, and I smiled.

"Of course. He'll be overjoyed to see you, I'm sure – he spoke very fondly of you," I replied. Selina transformed back into a mouse, climbing into Aedan's outstretched hand and settling down on his shoulder, her whiskers twitching with anticipation. We headed back down the alleyway, and I found Leliana and Zevran waiting by the edge of the street, watching our approach curiously.

"Why is it that whenever we leave you alone, you somehow find someone to bring along with you?" Leliana teased, looking up at Aedan as he nodded slightly in greeting.

"Oh shush dear," I replied, rolling my eyes at her. "This is Aedan, and Selina. Aedan, Selina these are my friends, Leliana and Zevran," I introduced them, indicating the mouse on Aedan's shoulder. "He's got some history with Howe, so we'll leave the Arl to him, and Selina's a mage," I added, and Zevran raised an eyebrow.

"We're killing the Arl now?" he asked, and I snorted.

"That _was_ part of the original plan. The bastard is tearing Denerim apart from the inside. He's _worse_ than the Kendells family, if that's even possible," I replied. "Hopefully whatever Arl comes to rule next won't be a murderous son of a whore," I muttered, and Aedan seemed surprised at the venom in my tone.

"Has old Howe done something to you as well?" he asked and I shrugged.

"Only indiscriminately killing people in the Alienage, setting traps for Grey Warden supporters, and Maker _knows_ what else," I replied.

"Ah, I'd heard about the uprising a few months back. Tch, I wouldn't be surprised if _he_ did something to start it," Aedan grumbled. I gave an awkward laugh, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Ah-ha…no… That was…um… _my_ fault. Sort of," I said, and he looked even more perplexed. "I killed Vaughan and some of his friends at one of their…uh… _parties_ ," I explained, and he grinned.

"Oh, good. I hoped I'd run into whoever did that. I really must thank you, on behalf of all the nobility – that degenerate was the worst kind of nobleman," Aedan remarked, giving my hand a hearty shake.

"Well, I suppose I've done Denerim a public service, then," I chuckled as we headed off. I liked Aedan and Selina already.

oooo

We headed towards the estate, where a large crowd of people had gathered, banging at the doors of the main entrance and demanding to see the Arl. As I saw the place, an involuntary shudder went through me, and Leliana glanced over. "Something wrong?" she asked softly, and I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat, my fingers twitching with nervous energy.

"…this is…this is where Vaughan took us…" I murmured, shaking my head slowly. "I thought I'd never have the misfortune of seeing it again. Come on, let's go," I added, looking around for Erlina through the crowd. "Ugh, I'm going to have nightmares about this place again…" I muttered under my breath, steeling myself as we moved through the people. We spotted Erlina nearby, waving to us as she stood behind a large wagon filled with building materials.

"The servants' entrance is on the other side of the house. We must slip past this crowd to reach it. We will have to be very careful: Arl Howe is inside," the Elf warned, and I nodded.

"So what's the crowd gathered for?" I asked, and Erlina shrugged.

"The estate is in poor repair. The new Arl, he has not been very prompt in paying his workmen," she explained. I nodded, and we started around the back of the estate. We slipped by the guards patrolling the wall-tops, clinging to the shadows along the walls and moving as quietly as we could. We found a small alcove and put the armor Erlina had given us over our clothes – she had brought a few extras, since she didn't know how many of us would come. As we neared the back entrance, Erlina spotted a pair of guards. "I can distract the guards, but you must move quickly," she said, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Can't we just walk in? We're in uniform. If we put the visors down…" I suggested, and she shook her head.

"These two know who is allowed to come and go. They will not be fooled. But the uniform should work on most of those inside," Erlina explained.

"Ah, makes sense. Alright, I'm ready when you are," I replied, glancing at the others. I bit my lip, trying not to laugh as I saw Aedan – Selina had climbed into his shirt, and was poking her head out of the top of his hauberk.

"It's not like I haven't seen everything already," she muttered as he fidgeted, and he made a face, blushing slightly as he saw me fighting back a smirk.

"That's not the issue, love. Your whiskers are tickling me," he replied, and she giggled, twitching her nose and making him fidget even more.

"Alright, I'll stop," she murmured, sliding down into the armor so that she was out of sight. "Just don't bump into anything, or you'll crush me," she added, and Aedan assured her that he would be careful.

"I will lure them into the courtyard. Wait in the bushes over there," Erlina whispered, waiting for us to get into position, out of sight behind some bushes, and she quickly ran her hands through her hair, messing it up a bit and slapping at her cheeks to make her eyes tear up, trying to look disheveled and distraught as she approached the guards.

"How exciting!" Leliana murmured, grinning from ear to ear, and I rolled my eyes.

"Right. Just like Carnivál," Zevran replied wryly, watching Erlina as she neared the two men.

"Oh! You _must_ come! I _saw_ something! By the fountain! I think it was a _darkspawn!_ " she exclaimed dramatically, startling the men, who had been dicing by the back door. _We probably could have just snuck past,_ I thought, although I watched the exchange carefully, nonetheless.

"Darkspawn?" One of the guards echoed, stopping as he was about to cast the dice.

"They will drag us all underground to be _eaten!_ " Erlina squeaked, sobbing and covering her face in terror. _Ooh, she's actually pretty good,_ I thought, watching as the first guard began to panic.

"Should we call for help?" he asked his companion, and the man scoffed, glowering at Erlina and not seeming to buy her act.

"Did you fall off a cart full of stupid? Call for _help?_ So they can see us act like scared little girls because of some knife-eared wench?" the second man asked scornfully.

"They will eat us all alive! _Please!_ Get help!" Erlina insisted, clasping her hands before her and staring about with wide, terrified eyes.

"If there _is_ something out there and we _don't_ sound the alarm, we'll look _worse_ than scared," the first guard argued, and the other man sighed, running a hand over his forehead.

"Andraste's holy knickers! _Fine_ , we'll check the courtyard, if it'll keep you from wetting yourself. But there's nothing there," the second guard muttered, shaking his head and nodding for Erlina to show them the way.

"Thank you! Oh! It was over here! Quickly!" Erlina gasped, running off with the guards in tow. As we snuck past, I caught a glimpse of the Elf pointing out to a spot near the fountain, where one of the guards was standing as he looked around. "It was here! It was right where you stand now!"

"Maker, I can't believe this…" the guard sighed, massaging his temples and shaking his head. We passed by in silence, getting into the estate without issue. We waited in the back hall for Erlina to catch up, and I looked around at my companions.

"Aedan, you should lead for now – an Elf or a woman in command of a small group will arouse suspicion," I said in an undertone, and the man nodded slightly. We glanced up as we heard the door of the servant's entrance open, and Erlina ran in, quickly unpinning her hair and trying to smooth it back into the severe bun that she wore.

"Ah! It took me _forever_ to be rid of those two!" she huffed, shaking her head. "You must be careful now. The servants, they will not look closely at anyone in uniform. All guards are alike to a cook, no? But you should not draw attention to yourself. Most of the guards are new. They will not know you for a stranger at a glance. It is best you keep your distance from all of them and try to blend in," she warned, and I nodded.

"Where's Anora?" I asked, and Erlina nodded towards the kitchens. I realized with a jolt that we were in the very room that the girls and I had been locked in, all those months ago. The thought sent a chill through me, and I tried not to make a face. Leliana and Zevran noticed my discomfort, looking around the room slowly, and perhaps wondering what I was getting tense about.

"She is in a guest room off the main hall," Erlina replied, and I nodded.

"Alright, I…think I remember my way around this place, but Aedan, you should take the lead. Let's go," I prompted, and we headed off. We passed through the halls unnoticed – we all kept our visors down, and Erlina took a different rout, not wanting to arouse suspicion. As we passed through the mess-hall, I nearly crashed into Aedan as he slowed, listening to a conversation nearby as a few off-duty guards played cards.

"When did you get back from Highever?" one of them asked, looking at his hand with distaste.

"Day before yesterday. I've never been so happy to leave a place in my life," another muttered darkly.

"How come?" a third asked curiously, and the second one scoffed.

"Try spending a few nights in a castle full of corpses sometime, and then half a year in the village after. Maker's breath! And the villagers… If you could kill men by hating them, we'd all be in our graves now," he said softly, his eyes dark at the memory. Aedan continued on without a word, but I could sense his anger as he tried to keep it down.

"Patience," I heard him mutter to himself, and I had to respect the man – I didn't know if I would have had the same self-control.

We made our way through the estate, and I took slow, measured breaths, feeling memories washing over me. The walls and floor, splattered with blood, the screams of dead guards, and the rush of adrenalin as my blade tore through armor and skin like it was paper. I could almost smell the blood in the air as we went down the corridor, stopping at a small, side hall, where a large, sturdy-looking door stood, a heavy pad-lock on the handle.

"Easy enough to pick," I remarked, rummaging through my pockets and pulling out my lock-picking kit.

"The Grey Warden Adeline is here, my lady," Erlina said as she came to the door, motioning me to join her.

"Thank the Maker! I would greet you properly, but I'm afraid we've had a… _setback_ ," I could hear Anora say through the door, her voice muffled through the heavy wood.

"Of course we do," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose – I could sense magic already, and guessed that _this_ was the setback. "What sort of setback?" I asked anyway, nearly pressing my ear against the door. Selina had crawled out of Aedan's shirt, and was now staring intently at the door, her whiskers twitching.

"My ' _host_ ' was not content with leaving me under heavy guard. He's sealed the door by _magic_ ," Anora replied with a huff, and I looked at Selina, who nodded.

"Yes, she's right. It's subtle, but it's there – a _high dragon_ couldn't tear down that door," the mage confirmed.

"Oh great," I sighed, throwing my hands in the air. "Why didn't you mention this before, Erlina?" I added, and the Elf covered her mouth, staring at the door in panic.

"I did not _know!_ There were only guards here when I left. We must get her out of there!" she nearly squeaked, and I heard Anora make an impatient sound on the other side of the door.

" _Don't_ panic, Erlina," the Queen commanded, her voice stern, and Erlina was silent. "Find the mage who cast the spell. He'll most likely be at Howe's side," she added to me.

"She's right – if we find him, he can stop the spell…though I doubt he'll do it if we ask nicely," Selina muttered the last part.

"So much for secrecy," I remarked, my tone wry.

"Well, if he didn't know you were here, he soon will," Anora reasoned, and I rolled my eyes.

"Fine. I'll be back soon," I said.

"Thank you, Warden. My prayers go with you," Anora replied, and I glanced at Erlina – she looked like she had something to say.

"Teyrn Howe will probably be in his rooms. They're at the end of the hall, on the left," Erlina said, and I nodded. We explored the first floor of the estate, but found no sign of Howe – Aedan even asked one of the other guards, saying that he had to report something to the Teyrn, and the guard had told him that the man was in the dungeons.

There was a small office off to the side, right before the stairs to the dungeon, and I went through some of Howe's paperwork – if we were lucky, we might find something that could be used against him, or Loghain. I found a pile of documents that had the Grey Warden seal in the corner, but they looked encrypted – a smaller sheet of paper was nearby with scribbles all over it, as if Howe had been trying to decipher the code. I tucked away the documents, along with Howe's notes – I planned to have a look at them later, once we were done here.

oooo

As we walked down the dungeon steps, I looked around, remembering my last trip here. "You know, I actually ended up down here once," I remarked, and Aedan glanced over at me, a curious half-grin on his face.

"Really?" he asked, and I chuckled.

"Yep. Security was terrible; the guard on watch fell _asleep_ at his post, even after being warned how dangerous I was," I recalled, and the man chuckled softly, trying to keep his voice down. As we reached a small block of cells, I jumped – down at a cell at the end of the row, a guard was keeping watch, snapping to attention at our approach.

"What? Who goes there?" he exclaimed, staring at us.

"Oh sod, didn't see you there," I remarked, whipping out a throwing knife from my belt. As the guard turned to face us, he was suddenly grabbed from behind by whoever was in the cell. He struggled wildly, but the prisoner grabbed at his face, crashing him against the bars a few times to stun him before snapping his neck. The man fell, and I saw a hand reach out through the bars, plucking the keys from the dead guard's belt.

I drew my blade warily as the cell door opened, and the guard was dragged inside – I heard what sounded like leather shifting and buckles being done, and a minute later, a tall, dark-haired man with a short beard and piercing blue eyes stepped out into the hall, greeting us with a small smile. "I thank you for creating such distraction, stranger. I have been waiting days for the opportunity; you never hear music in the sound of a key turning in a lock until you've been imprisoned," he said, his voice carrying a hint of an Orlesian accent.

I held up my saber defensively, and the man's gaze lingered on the blade for a moment before carefully studying my face. "Indeed. Now keep your hands where I can see them, if you would," I replied. The man raised his hands in the air, smiling slightly – he looked almost amused, and I scowled at him; he wasn't taking me seriously at all. "Who are you?"

"I am Riordan. Senior Grey Warden of Jader. And you…must be Duncan's last recruit, Adeline Tabris. Yes, you match his description," Riordan remarked, slowly lowering his hands as he saw the look of surprise on my face.

"Wait…how are you here? Did you survive Ostagar too?" I asked, and Riordan shook his head sadly, seeing the hope in my eyes peter out.

"I wasn't there," he began. "I was sent from Orlais when we received no word from King Cailan. The king had invited all the Wardens of Orlais and their support troops to join him, then…nothing," he explained, and I sheathed my blade, looking at him hopefully.

"How large a force did you bring with you?" I asked, and Riordan thought for a few moments.

"We had two hundred Wardens and two dozen divisions of cavalry. The first we heard of Loghain's edict was when everyone was turned back at the border. That was when the rumor reached us that Wardens were being blamed for the massacre," he replied, crossing his arms. "We finally decided it was safest to send someone alone, to learn how best to fight the Blight and this regime simultaneously. As a native Fereldan, I volunteered to make the crossing," he added, and I tried to fight down my panic at his words. _An army was nearly here, but by now they're probably too far away to reach us in time,_ I thought, looking at Riordan with worry.

"But the archdemon's nearly here! Will we have no help?" I asked, and Riordan sighed, seeing the distraught look on my face.

"The other Wardens won't risk their strength fighting Ferelden's civil war. If they spend themselves against Loghain, there is truly no hope. They recall accounts of the first Blight, how many cities fell. If Ferelden is too foolish to save itself, at least we'll be ready when the archdemon leads its forces further," he explained, and I scowled, not liking this at all – I opened my mouth to tell him where the other Wardens could shove their accounts, but he held up a hand in peace. "Besides, I hear you haven't been doing badly at raising an army yourself," he added, trying to calm me, and I sighed. "But perhaps if the edict can be lifted… I will send a message as soon as we are gone from this place," he promised, and I nodded; this would have to do, for now.

"So how did Arl Howe capture you?" I wondered, and Riordan sighed, shaking his head.

"With an offer of hospitality and a poisoned chalice. I was fool enough to think Loghain didn't yet know who I was," he replied, and Aedan snorted.

"Traitorous _snake_ ," he muttered under his breath, sheathing his rapier with a faint click against the scabbard. I glanced down at the floor for a moment, returning my gaze to Riordan as I recalled the Grey Warden documents. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the roll of papers, handing them to Riordan.

"Are these your papers? I found them in Howe's office; they bear the Grey Warden seal," I asked, and Riordan looked them over, nodding slightly.

"Yes. These are my records. The names of the dead I could recognize at Ostagar. What I could find of Duncan's own recruitment records. Copies of the Joining ritual I rescued from our Denerim vault," he listed. "Those should never be seen by any outside eyes, but I trust in their encryption," he added, and I cocked my head.

"Encryption? Oh, it looked like Howe was trying to decipher that," I said, and Riordan looked at the smaller slip of paper, chuckling slightly, as if he found the effort to be a joke.

"The Grey Wardens have been out of favor before. It has always behooved us to guard our secrets with a certain amount of misdirection," he sighed. "Take the vault, for instance; the Grey Wardens have long maintained a vault in Denerim, with spare supplies for battle. It is protected by a coded lock. When I went there recently, it had clearly been tampered with – presumably by Loghain – but it remained impermeable," Riordan explained. At the mention of a vault, I smiled slightly – we needed all the supplies we could get at this point.

"What kind of supplies are in there?" I asked, and Riordan pursed his lips, thinking for a few moments.

"Weapons, armor, anything useful in battle with the darkspawn," he replied, and my eyes lit up. "The code is complex, but I will sketch it out for you. You can find the vault in the Market District – in the northern alley past the Gnawed Noble Tavern. Help yourself to anything you find inside. For your actions, you more than deserve to be considered the Warden-Commander of Ferelden," he added, and I was taken-aback by his words.

"I…you honor me, Riordan," I bowed my head, smiling at the man as a wave of pride went through me. "You haven't seen Howe, by the way, have you?" I added, and Riordan nodded to another set of stairs that led to a lower floor.

"I saw him go further into the dungeons; he should still be there. I would come along, but I wouldn't be much use to you in my current condition. And, if you'll pardon me, I've a sudden desire to breathe some free air. I will seek you out later – after I find a good physician. And good luck…Sister," Riordan smiled, heading off.

oooo

We walked carefully down the stairs, but we were stopped by a guard when we reached a landing, the man blocking our path. Three other guards stood on duty, jumping to attention as we halted. "Who goes?" the guard asked, and I smiled sweetly, stepping forward and trying to use Charm on him as I bluffed.

"Oh, quit kidding around, you know me," I chuckled, waving a hand dismissively, and the man scoffed – apparently, Charm wasn't working on him.

"You think you're clever, do you? Anybody tries to come in here without Howe's say so, we get to do what we like with 'em. I think we finally got a bit of entertainment here, lads!" the man shouted, and the men leapt at us, weapons drawn. I raised my blade, blocking an attack as I drew my knife as well, attacking in a flurry of blue and red metal. The others attacked as we were rushed, and I saw flashes of light as Selina began casting spells on the men.

We took them down quickly, and I sighed, sheathing my blades and looking at the others as I took off my helmet, dropping it to the ground – I always hated how blind I felt wearing headgear. "Well, our cover's blown now. No getting this blood off, that's for sure," I remarked. The others shrugged, and Selina decided to remain in her human form to support us with magic.

I glanced at Aedan's blade, noticing the designs on the rapier before he sheathed it – the metal was shining silver, with blue runes along the length, and I could hear a faint hum from it as it reacted to my own blade. I smiled slightly, chuckling to myself – what were the odds that I had run into the owner of Fragarach, in all of Thedas? _The swords must be drawn to each other,_ I mused, glancing down at my own blade as I noticed Aedan looking at the humming saber's ornate runes as well, his gaze curious.

As we went through the dungeon, we fought swarms of guards at a time – these men wore much better armor than those posted upstairs, and I guessed that they were part of Howe's personal guard or something. We released prisoners as we went, telling them to wait until the coast was clear before trying to escape – we didn't want them to alert the guards upstairs to what was happening below.

I flinched as I heard agonized screams coming from up ahead, the sound chilling my blood, and I ran around the corner and into a room, spotting a young man with blonde hair being stretched on a rack. He screamed again, and I hurled throwing knives at his torturers, hitting two in the throat before the third one turned, charging at me. An arrow and a blast of magic took him down, and I nodded gratefully to Leliana and Selina as I ran into the room, hurriedly unbinding the man.

He sat up slowly, groaning softly and looking at me indignantly. "Was this supposed to be a lesson? Did my father think it funny to leave me for so long before sending you?" he scoffed, and I looked at him oddly.

"Are you alright?" I asked, ignoring his tone, and I gave me a scathing look.

"Alright? You taunt me with such a question. After what they've done, I doubt I'll ever be able to raise my arms again. Alright? What do such words even mean?" he said dramatically, and I tried not to roll my eyes at him. "Still, I owe you my life…and now that I look, I see you bear no livery from my father, so…to whom should I direct my gratitude?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"The Grey Wardens," I replied. Selina had come over, and was now holding out her hands, attempting to use healing magic on the man's arms.

"Then I have no question about why you would come, Warden, for it is your men who have suffered the most here," the young man said, sighing as he felt the effects of the healing magic on his wounds. "You have my heartfelt gratitude and, I assume, the gratitude of the entire Dragon's Peak Bannorn," he added. "My name is Oswyn, son of Bann Sighard, of Dragon's Peak," he introduced himself, and I nodded. "If my father sent no one after me, I can only assume that he does not yet know the true colors of the snakes he has allied with. But if you talk to him, I'm certain he would offer you any reward you might ask," he sighed.

"Will your father side against Loghain at the Landsmeet?" I asked, and Oswyn looked at me with surprise.

"Then there is a Landsmeet after all? Howe said the Arl of Redcliffe was dead, and the Landsmeet called off," he explained. "I swear, if there be any forum to speak out against Loghain, my father will be there," he promised.

"Why was Arl Howe torturing you?" Leliana asked as she joined us – Zevran and Aedan were keeping an eye on the hall by the door, glancing back occasionally.

"One soldier returning from Ostagar was my wet nurse's son," Oswyn began. "We have been friends since birth. He told me his unit was ordered to turn their backs on Cailan at Ostagar… _before_ the darkspawn overwhelmed him," he said. "The next day, he disappeared. When I went to search for him…I accepted a drink from a stranger and ended up here."

"Loghain grows more ruthless the closer the Landsmeet draws," I sighed, shaking my head.

"Please, I must try to get to my father. I…I cannot see the last of this place too soon," Oswyn said, limping away. I called for him to wait with the other freed prisoners, and I saw him nod slightly as he headed out the door.

We continued through the dungeon, fighting off more guards and freeing prisoners. We found a man muttering prayers in a cell set off to the side; I opened the door, but the man didn't look up from his prayers. "Andraste, Bride of the Maker, have mercy on me…" he murmured, glancing up as I softly cleared my throat, drawing his attention. "Alfstanna…is that you, little sister?" his eyes were hazy and distant, his face falling as he looked at me. "No…I don't know you…do I? Are you real?" he asked, and I looked back at him in confusion.

"Are you alright?" I asked softly, not sure what was going on.

"Alfstanna? I…don't know. Where is my sister? Have you seen her?" he asked, looking from face to face, as if trying to find his sister among my companions. "I…I'm Irminric, knight-lieutenant of the Denerim chantry. You…aren't one of the Teyrn's men?" he murmured hazily. "I…I failed in my duties. Maker, forgive me. I failed, and there's no telling what he's done…" he gasped out, clasping his hands before him and closing his eyes as he returned to his prayers.

"Who are you talking about?" Leliana asked, and I glanced at her. I noticed that Selina was watching the man intently, as if trying to figure out what was wrong with him.

"The maleficar. He had turned blood magic upon Templars and Circle mages to escape from his tower. Near Redcliffe, I cornered him… But the Teyrn's men took him from me…and brought me here…" Irminric recalled, his eyes hazy as he looked up at us, and Selina spoke up.

"This maleficar, was his name Jowan?" she asked, and the Templar nodded.

"Yes. He…destroyed his phylactery…we were spread out, trying to find him…I was alone…" the man whispered, shaking his head slightly. A bit of clarity seemed to return as he got to his feet, leaning against the wall. "I…you _are_ real, aren't you? My dreams are…so strange now. Please, if you're not a dream, help me," he pleaded, looking at me.

"You realize the door is open, yes? You are free," Zevran remarked, and the man shook his head adamantly, his eyes pointed toward the ground in shame.

"No one can free me from failure, save Blessed Andraste," he sighed mournfully.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked, and the man pulled a ring from his pocket, handing it to me with shaking fingers.

"Give this ring…to my sister, Alfstanna. Tell her…tell her I'm sorry. Please. Ask her…to pray for me…" he murmured. The man refused to budge, so we reluctantly left him there, continuing through the dungeon.

oooo

"Lyrium withdrawal," Selina said after a while, and we glanced at her.

"That was why that man was so out of it?" Aedan asked, and the woman nodded.

"I've only seen it once before – it was an older Templar, come back from a long trip; he had been robbed on the road, and hadn't been able to get any lyrium for weeks. This man's symptoms are even worse," she murmured, shaking her head pityingly.

"Wait, so why don't mages get lyrium withdrawal?" I asked curiously, and she shrugged.

"Because when we cast spells, we use up any lyrium consumed _before_ we feed from our natural mana pool. For a Templar, the lyrium stays in their body, and becomes part of them. The Chantry holds a tight leash on its Templars," Selina remarked.

We stopped at a large, reinforced door with iron studs along the metal bars. "This is the last room," I murmured, looking at Aedan. He nodded mutely, a fierce excitement washing over him for a moment before he drew it all in, a mask of icy calm sliding over his face.

"I am ready," he said, and I nodded, patting his arm.

"Lead the way, Teyrn Cousland," I whispered, and he nodded, drawing his rapier and grabbing the door's handle, swinging it inward with a resounding boom and marching inside.

Rendon Howe was standing in the center of the room, two crossbowmen each on his right and left, with a mage sitting on a stool further back in the room, protected by another, more heavily armored guard. The old man sneered as he saw Aedan, his eyes flashing with malevolence as he drew his own blade, taking a few steps towards us, the crossbowmen shifting accordingly so that we were always in their line of sight. Howe's lips turned up cruelly, and his gaze moved slowly over each of us before locking with Aedan's.

"Well, well. Bryce Cousland's little boy, all grown up, and still trying to fit into daddy's armor," he began, his tone snide. "I never thought you'd be fool enough to turn up here. But then…I never thought you'd _live_ , either." The two took a step forward, and began slowly circling, watching the other with unwavering eyes, their movements mirrored perfectly.

"Glad to disappoint you. It won't be the last time," Aedan growled, and Howe scoffed.

"Is this about your family? Still?" the man asked in a wheedling tone; Aedan kept his expression level – he knew that anger would make him sloppy. "But I have done so much _more_ than wipe your name from Ferelden memory. And what's left? A fool husk of a son, likely to end his days as a wandering drunk, or dead in a ditch. You're the last of nothing. This is pointless. You've _lost_ ," Howe finished, his eyes flashing as he watched Aedan.

The younger man's eyes burned dangerously as he watched Howe, and when he spoke, his voice held power – he was the Teyrn of Highever, more than Howe could ever hope to be. "I know your game, Howe. No shadows, no lies. Just you and me," he said, and I saw fear in the older man's eyes as he felt the strength in Aedan's words.

"There it is. Right there! That damned look in the eye that marked every Cousland success that held me back," Howe hissed, getting angry, now that he was rattled. "It would appear that you have made something of yourself after all – your father would be proud," he remarked, and Aedan's eyes narrowed at the mention of his father. "I, on the other hand, want you dead more than ever," Howe snarled, leaping forward.

The room exploded in bursts of light and sound – as soon as Howe had attacked Aedan, the crossbowmen had fired at his back. Selina threw up an ethereal shield around the battling men, holding it as Zevran, Leliana and I went after the crossbowmen. Once they were distracted, Selina lowered her shield and began attacking the mage, her eyes flashing with fire. Leliana and Zevran distracted the four archers, and I ran at the mage's guard, holding him off as Selina and the mage stared at one another – their fingers were twitching and their lips quivered, but I could sense the invisible crackle of magic that hummed through the room; the two were battling across the Fade itself, cancelling out the other's spells before they were even cast, trying to gain an edge over their opponent.

I slashed furiously at the heavily armored foe, dodging the swings of his greatsword and stabbing into exposed bits of his armor, making the man scream in pain. I kicked him hard in the abdomen, knocking him to the ground and plunging my blade into his chest. He struggled for a few moments more before going still, and I turned to see the others taking down the four crossbowmen behind me. The mage that Selina was battling keeled over, a bit of blood running from his nose and eyes; the only ones left fighting were Aedan and Howe.

The fight didn't last much longer – Aedan let out a fierce roar and ran Howe through. The man was sprawled across the floor, opening his mouth to say something, but with a single stroke, Aedan cut off his head, giving it a fierce kick; the head sailed across the room and hit the wall with a splitting crack, blood spurting everywhere as it fell to the ground. Aedan spat on Howe's body, turning away and stalking into the hall, Selina at his heels.

The man stood in silence for a long time, his eyes closed and his face pointed towards the ceiling, his lips moving in silent prayer. He let out a long sigh, opening his eyes as a calm, content smile spread across his lips, and he sheathed his rapier once he cleaned off the blood. Selina walked around in front of him, seeing his look and smiling as well. "Glad to see you've gotten that off your chest," she said in a soft tone, reaching out a hand to pat him on the shoulder.

She let out a startled gasp as Aedan grabbed her, thrusting the woman against the wall and kissing her fiercely, pressing himself close to her. She let out a soft sigh as he kissed her, and I politely averted my eyes, as did Leliana; I had to smack Zevran's arm for him to do the same. "Mmm…if we didn't have an audience, I'd have you right here," Aedan whispered, so soft that I barely caught it, and Selina blushed furiously, pressing her forehead against his.

"N-now darling, there's plenty of time for that later," she squeaked as he kissed her cheek, and he chuckled as he nuzzled her hair, wrapping an arm around her waist and turning back to us.

"My thanks, Adeline. I don't know if I'd have gotten such a chance at Howe if not for your help," he thanked me sincerely, and I smiled.

"You look relieved. I suggest you leave this place ahead of us quickly, though, before the remaining soldiers learn of what we've done," I remarked, and he nodded, looking around at the empty halls.

"Aye, good point," he replied.

"Here; if you need a place to stay, we'll be at Arl Eamon's estate. If I'm not there to greet you, take this knife, and show it to the guards if they don't believe you – tell them to give it to Alistair, and that you're a friend," I said, handing him my red-steel knife. "Maker speed your way," I added, and Aedan nodded gratefully.

"And yours." The two bade us farewell, and I watched as Selina turned back into a mouse, climbing onto Aedan's shoulder as the two headed off. Once they had disappeared from view, I glanced back towards Leliana and Zevran.

"Zevran can you…make sure they get out safely?" I asked, and the assassin nodded, seeming to disappear as he blended into the shadows.

oooo

Leliana and I made our way out of the dungeons, swearing at the state of the building above – the prisoners had made a break for it, just as the rioters outside had broken in, and the place was in chaos. It looked like the _garrison_ was even here, and maybe Kylon's legion of bastards had gotten mixed in, battling Howe's guards in the confusion as they tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

"We can use the chaos to get the queen out," Leliana reasoned, and I nodded, running alongside her as we returned to the room where Anora was being held. Erlina greeted us excitedly, and I unlocked the door for her, letting the handmaiden in so that she could help Anora into her disguise.

"My thanks," the queen said as she came out of the room a few minutes later. She had high, regal cheekbones, a proud nose, and piercing blue eyes that were colder than ice, all framed by pale gold locks, which she tucked into a guard helmet.

"Hmm…you're a bit fine-featured for a guard, my queen. Too…proper-looking," I remarked as I looked at her, feeling her frigid gaze rake over me as she took in every detail. _Definitely Loghain's daughter,_ I thought, trying to suppress a shiver. "Erlina, couldn't you have found a helmet with a visor?" I added, turning to look at the handmaiden, who knitted her fingers together anxiously.

"This was all I could find in the armory after the chaos started. I did not want the guards to spot me," she explained, and I nodded.

"Fair enough," I replied.

"We must go quickly and avoid notice," Anora prompted, her tone urgent. "If Howe's people find me, I'll be killed," she warned. "And my people will insist on escorting me back to the palace…where my father may _also_ have me killed," she added.

"Right. Let's get out of here before the storm ends – if we're lucky, we can get out without fighting," I added, motioning for Anora to stay close to me, with Erlina at her elbow and Leliana taking rear guard. We ducked through the estate, avoiding the areas with the heaviest fighting and heading to the main hall – the back way by the mess hall was where most of the noise was coming from, and I didn't want to head straight into danger with the queen in tow.

"I haven't seen this much excitement since the Brecilian," Leliana remarked, and I chuckled at the way her eyes shone – she _lived_ for this sort of thing.

"You know," I added with a grin as we neared the front gates, "Denerim goes through Arls remarkably qui–oh _sod_ ," I swore, coming to a halt as we entered the hall. Ser Cauthrien was standing with a dozen soldiers, six of them holding crossbows trained on my heart – even _with_ the armor I was wearing, I didn't like the odds.

"Warden! In the name of the regent, I am placing you under arrest for the murder of Rendon Howe and his men-at-arms. Surrender, and you _may_ be shown mercy," Cauthrien barked out in a commanding tone, and I swore under my breath.

 _Maybe I can talk my way out,_ I thought, sheathing my saber and holding up my hands very slowly, not wanting to be shot by a guard with an itchy trigger-finger. "I'm here to free Anora, who was held captive by Howe," I tried to explain, and Cauthrien scoffed, looking at me with disdain.

"Don't be _ridiculous_. The queen isn't being held prisoner here or anywhere else. Her father would never stand for such a thing," the woman retorted.

"Are you sure of that?" I asked. "Why not send your men to search through Howe's office, or the dungeons? His plans aren't exactly hidden," I added. _Please be stupid enough to fall for it,_ I thought – Charm wasn't working on Cauthrien. One of the guards was looking very closely at Anora as he saw Erlina fidgeting about behind me.

"Wait…I recognize you…" he murmured, and Cauthrien glanced at him. "Maker's breath, it's the queen!" he shouted, pointing at Anora, who's shoulders stiffened.

"Quick, Anora, say something! Cauthrien might listen to you," I whispered to her.

"What?" Cauthrien asked, spotting the queen as she took off her helmet. The queen suddenly ran over to the woman's side with Erlina in tow, gripping her arm and getting behind her.

"Ser Cauthrien! Praise the Maker you're here…" she sobbed, her eyes red with tears. "This brigand tried to kidnap me!" she shouted, pointing at me. I stared at her in shock, my face going white before turning red with fury.

"You two-faced _bitch!_ " I snarled, drawing my blade as the guards advanced on me, keeping Leliana behind me. "I should have known better than to trust the daughter of the king's murderer."

"Unbelievable…bring them down! Loghain wants the Warden, dead or alive!" Cauthrien ordered, and I looked at Leliana as she stared at Anora in disbelief. _We won't get out alive unless I surrender,_ I thought, bracing myself.

I sheathed my blade and held up my hands, stepping forward into the hall. "Wait! Wait! I surrender! Just let her go," I shouted, indicating Leliana, who looked shocked.

"But we've come so far! Why surrender now?" she exclaimed, and I looked at her sadly.

"We won't make it out alive if we fight," I admitted.

"I'm surprised this ended peacefully," Cauthrien remarked, motioning for the guards to confiscate my weapon. "Bring the Warden. Loghain doesn't care about the rest," she added. I quickly unbuckled my saber and tossed it to Leliana, who ran back through the estate, casting a hate-filled glare at Anora before she went. Cauthrien's soldiers surrounded me, and I held up my arms for them to bind me – instead, one of them bashed me across the face with the pommel of his sword and knocked me out cold.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

And here are Aedan Cousland and Selina Amell:

Aedan is a rogue with the duelist specialization, although he prefers to use just a rapier, instead of dual-wielding.

Selina is a shapechanger and blood mage. She learned blood magic independently from Jowan, but ironically, from the same source – the Scrolls of Banastor.


	50. Chapter 50: Caged In

Chapter 50

Caged In

Author's note:

If you haven't already guessed, I'm not exactly a fan of Anora…

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Zevran had turned back towards the Arl of Denerim's estate, once he had seen Aedan and Selina to safety, but found the place looking like an overturned anthill; soldiers – both Howe's men and the city guard – were tumbling over the rioting workers, who had managed to find a way into the estate, and prisoners from Howe's dungeon, who were trying to get out. The Elf perched on a high wall and watched the chaos, spotting Anora and Erlina slipping through the crowd and down a side alley unnoticed. He narrowed his eyes as he stood, following the two – there was no sign of Adeline and Leliana.

"It was necessary Erlina," Anora gasped as she trotted through the dark alley with Erlina at her heels. "Sometimes a small sacrifice must be made for the greater good." The woman skidded to a halt as the dark-skinned assassin dropped down from the buildings in front of her, blocking her path.

"I hope you are not referring to Adeline and Leliana as a 'small sacrifice'," Zevran said, his voice deathly quiet, and cold as ice as his eyes burned into Anora. The clattering of armor drew his attention, and he spotted Leliana staggering towards them from the other side of the alley, clutching a wound on her side.

"Zevran!" she cried, gritting her teeth as blood dripped through her fingers. Zevran spotted Adeline's sword at Leliana's hip a moment later, and his face went white with dread. "Adeline…she's been taken by Cauthrien!" the woman choked out. Zevran ran to her, pulling bandages from his emergency kit as he pulled off the metal breastplate and lifted the chainmail hauberk from Leliana's stomach, bandaging the wound as he tried to stop her from bleeding out.

"What _happened?_ " he exclaimed, turning as he heard Anora and Erlina moving. He whipped out one of his blades, throwing it at the ground where Anora was about to step and nearly cutting off her toes. "You _stay!_ " he ordered, and the queen flinched at the venom in his voice. "Come with me," he snarled as he retrieved his blade, supporting Leliana with his shoulder as they headed back towards Arl Eamon's estate.

Servants ran ahead of them as they reached the gates, and Jowan nearly fell down the stairs as he spotted them, Wynne following at a more controlled pace as she saw Leliana's injury. "Maker's breath, what's going on?" Jowan exclaimed as he and Wynne set to work immediately – both saw Adeline's blade at Leliana's hip as they approached the wounded bard.

"Erlina, you're back," some of the servants greeted the Elf as they were drawn in by the commotion.

"Who is that?" others asked, spotting Anora, who was still wearing a guard uniform.

"Lady Leliana's been wounded!" still others cried, an increasingly large crowd gathering about.

"Andraste's grace…" Wynne muttered, struggling to concentrate in the sea of servants.

"What's all this now?" Katja wondered as she and Oghren came in from a side hall, spotting the crowd.

"Did they deliver a fresh shipment of mead?" Oghren asked, and the girl snorted.

"I doubt the estate would be turned on its head if that were the case," she replied. She glanced up as Sten joined them, narrowing his eyes slightly at the noise. "Hey big guy, can you see what's going on?" she asked. Instead of answering her, Sten moved through the crowd, the servants parting like water as the Qunari passed by, a good two heads taller than most of them. He bent down and scooped Leliana gently into his arms, looking at Wynne expectantly.

"Oh, thank you Sten," the healer sighed. "Bring her to her room – I will see to her from there," she instructed, leading the way through the gathered servants.

"Maker's breath, was that Leliana getting carried away by Sten?" Alistair asked as he came into the main hall with Neria and Morrigan, having heard the commotion as well. Olan looked around for Adeline, letting out a soft whine as his ears flattened against his head.

Zevran spotted Alistair, waving him down just as Arl Eamon entered the hall. The place fell dead silent at the Arl's presence. "Please return to your duties," he said; his voice was quiet, but firm, and the servants scrambled off, leaving the hall nearly empty of people – only Adeline's companions remained behind, looking oddly at the strange, armored woman and the Elf servant.

"Wait…you're queen Anora," Alistair remarked, recognizing the woman. She didn't even dignify him with a reply, walking straight over to Eamon.

"Eamon, we may have a problem," Anora said, and Arl Eamon glanced at Zevran, who was fuming as he glared at the woman.

"What's this? She throws her savior to the wolves, and now she has second thoughts?" the man spat, adding a few choice swears in Antivan, and Alistair glanced between them, his eyes narrowing at Anora.

"Thrown to the…? What is it you might have done, exactly?" his voice was steely, and Anora looked at him for the first time – she didn't expect such venom from a commoner towards his queen, and she narrowed her eyes. _This is the bastard prince,_ she thought with distaste, recognizing him – it would be hard _not_ to, with how similar he looked to Cailan.

"What in Andraste's name has happened? Are you all right?" Arl Eamon asked, looking Anora over carefully.

"Please, let us speak in your office," Anora replied, brushing past the Arl and walking up the stairs. The others in the room were silent, but followed after her, crowding into Eamon's office to listen. Leliana had been treated – the wound had looked worse than it actually was, thankfully – and was glaring at Anora with such loathing that the queen felt uncomfortable for the first time in her life. _Perhaps…I have made a bad choice,_ Anora thought, feeling the eyes of the Grey Wardens' companions on her back as she spoke to Eamon.

"The Warden has been captured," Anora said, and Leliana scoffed, crossing her arms and scowling at the queen.

"By Ser Cauthrien. To whom our lady here handed us both on a platter!" she exclaimed.

"I'm still waiting for a reason not to slit her throat and toss her in the river. I haven't heard it yet," Zevran added, and Anora shivered – he did not sound like he was making idle threats.

"How could this happen?" Eamon asked, giving Leliana and Zevran pointed looks – they were still speaking to the queen of Ferelden.

"Never mind that," Anora brushed off the question with a wave of her hand. "The question is how to free her. Cauthrien will take her to Fort Drakon. Getting in will be no small feat…"

oOo

Cold…everything was cold…and my body ached. Lights were flashing in my eyes before everything turned black again, and feeling sank into nothingness.

I blinked, slowly, the dull, green-tinged light of the Fade washing over me. A bookshelf with books hanging frozen half-way off the shelf floated nearby. Spiraling structures towered over my head, and I slowly got to my feet as the dizziness melted away. My hair flowed about my face, and my tail waved agitatedly behind me as I walked, baring my teeth as I paced.

 _That bitch…_ I thought, narrowing my eyes. _I told her to say something to get us_ _ **all**_ _out. Selfish_ _ **harlot**_ _,_ I huffed. _If I make it through this, I am going to flay her alive…_

A jolt of pain wracked through this section of the Fade, and I glanced around – I was waking up. I turned slightly as my skin prickled, and I stared up, spotting the strange, dragon-masked spirit standing on a high rise, watching me.

"…kill…me…" it groaned, its cloak flapping about in a nonexistent wind before it burst into smoke, and my vision faded.

oOo

Zevran and Oghren walked into the main hall of Fort Drakon, glancing about and trying their best to look like they were meant to be here. "By the Stone, how did you convince me to do this again?" Oghren muttered under his breath, looking uncomfortable in his clown costume.

"Shush now, my good Dwarf, and let me do the talking," Zevran replied quietly, adjusting the cuffs on his frilly gold and red shirt. He had much preferred the plan where he and Morrigan were disguised as representatives from a merchant guild, or Wynne and Alistair under the same guise…but everyone had wanted to immediately storm the fort to break Adeline out – Eamon had resorted to putting names into a hat and pulling out two people to go on the rescue mission; Zevran and Oghren had had the luck of the draw.

As they approached the first door in the lobby, one of the men on watch looked up, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the odd pair. "And what are you supposed to be?" he asked, and Zevran cleared his throat, giving an elegant bow.

"We, ser, are performers from the Antiva City Circus," the introduced them cheerily. "The Famous…Broma Brothers! Surely you have heard of us?" Zevran asked, giving his most charming smile. The other guard looked between the two skeptically.

"You don't look like brothers," he remarked, and Zevran gave an exaggerated gasp, looking insulted as he placed a hand on his heart.

"H-How can you say that? Are your eyes failing? _Look_ at us! We are _twins!_ …not _identical_ , of course, but twins, nonetheless," Zevran argued, and the guard raised an eyebrow.

"I'm the pretty one," Oghren added.

"…right. So what're you doing here?" the guard asked, crossing his arms.

"We are here for the commander of this fine establishment. It is his birthday, no?" Zevran asked, and the first guard glanced over.

"It's not the commander's birthday, is it?" he asked softly, and the other guard shrugged, just as confused as he was.

"Don't tell me you forgot! What kind of terrible man-at-arms are you? No doubt he is _crushed_. It is fortunate indeed that the regent sent us to entertain him," Zevran replied.

"Well, wait over there, I'll get the captain," the second guard said, unlocking the door. "…never said anything about no _circus freaks_ …" he muttered, shaking his head as he went to find the guard captain. Zevran and Oghren stood a little ways off, out of earshot of the remaining guard.

"There! Not so difficult, was it?" Zevran asked, and Oghren grunted, making a face.

"Heh…easy for you to say, Elf. These clown pants are riding up something _fierce_ ," the Dwarf muttered. Zevran remained silent, but the look on his face said 'that is more than I ever needed to know'. A short while later, the guard captain appeared, and the two returned to the door.

"All right, what's this about?" the captain asked, looking between the two strange men.

"My partner and I are, ah, performers. The regent hired us, said morale was low," Oghren began, and the captain looked at them doubtfully, crossing his arms.

"You're performers, are you? What's your act?" he asked suspiciously.

"Our act?" Oghren echoed. "Well…the Elf here juggles swords while I…er…"

"He-he does a traditional Dwarven dance of death!" Zevran cut in quickly, and Oghren nodded. "He lights his pants on fire and-and everything! It's quite the spectacle."

"You can perform in the main hall on the condition that the Dwarf keeps his pants _on_. _That's_ non-negotiable," the captain relented, letting the two pass through the doors. "…why didn't I take the post at Lothering?" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head and letting out a long sigh as he returned to his office.

oooo

Adeline groaned, rolling over and finding herself in a prison cell, wearing only her small-clothes and corset. "Oww…sodding hell, why does this _always_ happen to me?" she muttered, massaging the back of her head and looking around. The prisoner in the next cell over noticed her, walking over to the bars and looking at the Elf girl.

"You look like you've been dragged through ten kinds of crap, friend. What'd you do?" the man asked, running a hand over his matted beard.

"I helped kill Rendon Howe," Adeline replied, cringing as she massaged her shoulder – it felt like she had pulled a muscle. _Maker's breath, did they try tearing my_ _ **arm**_ _off when they were undressing me?_ she thought, glancing back at the prisoner as he laughed.

"Who calls that a crime? More like a public _service_ ," the man chuckled; evidently Howe was universally disliked. "Still, they'll hang you for it," the man added, and Adeline made a face.

"Just what I wanted to hear," she sighed, glancing around as she stood. "So where _are_ we, anyway?"

"You don't even know?" the prisoner asked, and Adeline shook her head slowly. "This is Fort Drakon. You're a lucky woman, my friend," he chuckled wryly. "Now the royal dungeons…they're an oubliette – you'd never see daylight again. Drakon…this is where you go before you meet the gallows," he explained.

"Oh, lovely," Adeline muttered, crossing her arms. "Well, I've spat death in the face before, so don't see how this'll be any different," she murmured. "I'm getting out of here before my friends try something stupid. Like breaking _into_ the most heavily guarded fort in all of Ferelden," she added, groaning at the thought. _They_ _ **would**_ _do something like that. I suppose I should be touched that they care so much…but I can't help but think of what could go_ _ **wrong**_.

"Good luck with that. I'll expect the Maker to walk in here and sing us a sea shanty first, though," the prisoner chuckled, and Adeline smiled slightly.

"Stranger things have happened," she remarked, glancing towards the guard who was on duty. He looked bored – he wasn't paying much heed to the prisoners – and was reading something. Adeline squinted, trying to read the cover, and she almost laughed – the guard was reading "One Hundred and One Antivan Nights". _Well, maybe I can use that to my advantage,_ she thought, and made a face. _Oh, the others will have a good laugh when I tell them about this._

Adeline walked over to the bars of the cell, making eyes at the guard and batting her eyelashes prettily. The guard glanced up at her before returning to his book, blushing slightly – between the book, and the nearly naked Elf woman, he was getting a bit…worked up. "If you're not bleeding, I don't care," he grumbled, looking pointedly down at his book and reading the same passage over and over, unable to concentrate. Something was making him look at her – he couldn't help himself.

Adeline bit back a smirk – she was letting Charm seep into the air to get the man's attention, and it was working better than she thought. "I was just lonely…" she crooned in a suggestive voice, wrapping her arms around herself in a way that emphasized her features. The guard looked at her and swallowed, his throat dry as a light sweat beaded along the nape of his neck. The air was heavy with the smell of cinnamon – it was warm and inviting, and set his blood boiling. "It's so cold in this cell…and they've given me so little to wear…" she added, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"W-well…I _could_ keep you company…" the guard said, walking over. Adeline stepped back as the man entered the cell, moving towards her with lust in his eyes. The prisoner in the next cell was watching with interest – he had seen a couple of women, and even a man, once, seduce their way out of a cell, but they rarely made it much further.

"Why don't you take that off so we can get started?" Adeline suggested, stepping up to him and running a hand over the metal breastplate, helping the man unbuckle his armor.

"Maker, they put a lot of buckles on this thing…" he muttered as Adeline pulled the armor over his head.

"Now…" Adeline murmured as she stood on her toes, lips an inch from the guard's. She suddenly moved forward, kneeing the man in the groin, and while he was doubled over in pain, she wacked him over the head with her elbow, laying him out.

"Nice work sweetheart. Mind helping a friend?" the prisoner asked as the Elf plucked the keys from the guard's belt.

"Ugh…" she shuddered, "I need a _bath_ after that." She stepped out of the cell, closing the door and locking it behind her with the guard still inside. She walked over to the other prisoner's cell and unlocked it, setting him free as well.

"Thank you kindly, friend! I think I won't be waiting around, if you don't mind…" the man said, grabbing some clothing from a nearby crate and pulling the garments on before running off. _I have no idea who that was_ , Adeline realized. _I could have just released the most heinous war criminal in all of Ferelden,_ she thought as she watched the man go. _Ah well,_ she shrugged. Adeline turned towards the crate, finding more clothes inside and dressing herself. The clothes were a bit too large – they were meant for human men – but she had to make due.

 _Oh!_ She thought with surprise, finding her mother's boots at the bottom of the pile. She hurriedly slipped them on, thanking the Maker. She searched for her other clothes, but couldn't find them. _Thank the Maker I gave Leliana my sword – I probably would never have seen it again,_ she thought gratefully. She found her jewelry on a table nearby – the signet ring of House Aeducan and the obsidian ring from Haven – slipping them on and counting her blessings that she had only lost her clothing, and the leather vest she had worn under her disguise. _I'll definitely need that drake-skin armor Alistair had commissioned for me,_ she thought, looking around briefly for anything else of use.

Adeline headed out of the room carefully, leaning cautiously around every corner before she went into a new room or hall. She found a small storage room, where spare weapons and armor were kept, and after rummaging around for a bit, she found an Elf-sized uniform. _There are few Elves in the army as it is, and even fewer_ _ **female**_ _Elves. I hope my luck keeps up,_ Adeline thought, slipping the mail hauberk over her head and tucking her hair into the chain hood, slipping on the metal cuirass and buckling it into place before donning a helmet and bracers, and strapping greaves over her boots.

"I hope this works," she muttered as she lowered the visor, walking down the hall and trying to look like she was just another soldier in the fort. As she turned a corner, she stumbled into what looked like an office. A man standing behind a desk glanced up from the map he was inspecting. _Oh_ _ **sod**_ _,_ Adeline thought, trying not to panic as the man looked at her thoughtfully.

"What's this? Ah! You must be the new recruit we were getting," the man remarked, walking around the desk and looming over her. "You're late – the rest of your patrol is in the storage room. Find them, and get yourselves ready for inspection," he said in a commanding tone, and although his words were firm, they weren't harsh.

"Yes ser!" Adeline said, giving the man a salute before turning on her heel, heading back out of the room. _Thank the Maker all these guards are idiots! If I'm lucky, I can stick with the patrol and slip away once we're out of the fort,_ she thought, waiting until she was out of earshot before breathing a soft sigh of relief.

Adeline went down the hall until she reached the storage room at the end, finding two guards inside, by a pile of barrels. One of them was kneeling, adjusting his greaves, and the other was standing, leaning against the stack of barrels with his eyes closed. He let out a groan, shaking his head. "We were _so_ close. So close to being _real_ soldiers instead of uniformed _errand_ boys…" he muttered, and the one kneeling looked up at him.

"We're never going to leave this fort, you know. We'll die in here. Old men. Surrounded by rotten potatoes," he remarked, and the first man glanced down, scowling.

"It's not _my_ fault the potatoes went off!" he retorted, and the one kneeling snorted, returning to adjusting his armor. He glanced up as he heard someone approach, raising an eyebrow as he saw a female soldier. _Huh. This one's really short for a guard. She an Elf?_ Anders* wondered – they didn't get many Elves in the army…and no _female_ Elves at all. That he had seen, at least – he probably wasn't going to see much of anything; he was going to be stuck down here with Liam for the rest of his days, minding the storeroom. "Did you need something?" Liam asked as he leaned against the barrels, and the girl walked up to them.

"I was told we should get ready for inspection," she replied, and Liam raised an eyebrow.

"You're in our patrol? I never saw you before," he remarked, and Adeline shrugged.

"I'm new. Name's Tabby," she replied, holding out a hand. Liam shook it, and Anders stood, doing the same.

"Tabby?" Liam asked, and she shrugged.

"Short for Tabitha," she elaborated.

"Name's Anders," Anders introduced himself, "and that's Liam," he said, indicating the other man. "We've only been here two weeks, ourselves," he added.

"And we're already in hot water," Liam muttered, shaking his head.

"What happened?" Adeline asked curiously, raising her visor so that she could see the two more clearly. _Maker's breath,_ Liam thought, trying not to stare at the girl's clear, green eyes, _I wonder why they don't put more women in the army – my heart almost stopped for a second there._

"So the assistant quartermaster…is a little miffed with us at present," Anders said awkwardly, glancing at Liam and nodding slightly towards the girl; they were both wondering how they had never noticed her before.

"I _told_ you we should've put those potatoes in the cellar straight away," Liam complained, and Anders quickly brushed off the other man's words. Adeline raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them in confusion.

"Some things went amiss. Mistakes were made. The quartermaster got chewed out by Teyrn Loghain, and then _he_ chewed out the assistant…" Anders continued. _Wait, how did this happen because of_ _ **potatoes**_ _? Did they let them spoil or something?_ Adeline thought, and Liam sighed.

"And now, to get back at us for landing him in trouble, the assistant quartermaster won't give us our blades. And you can't pass inspection without a regulation sword," Liam explained.

"Can't you get the officers to sort this out?" Adeline asked, and Anders made a face.

"It's…ah…probably better that the officers know as little about this as possible…" Anders said awkwardly.

"I _told_ you those potatoes were going to go off," Liam growled.

"But he doesn't have any beef with _you_. Maybe you could talk to him?" Anders said, glancing towards Adeline. _Maybe she can charm him with those pretty eyes,_ the man thought.

"I'll…um…see what I can do," Adeline replied. _Maker's breath, what did they_ _ **do**_ _?_ she wondered, glancing towards the hall.

"He's down the hall, in the armory," Anders said, following as Adeline set off.

"Maker help us," Liam sighed, shaking his head and joining them. As they walked towards the armory, Liam glanced at Anders. "I hope this works…" he muttered, and Anders glanced back at him.

"Quit worrying. He's got to give in _eventually_ ," the man argued, and Liam snorted.

"No, he doesn't. If that man could hate us to death, they'd be singing the Chant for both of us right now," he retorted, and Adeline glanced back at the two, raising an eyebrow.

"So what did you do to piss him off, exactly? Something about potatoes?" she wondered, and Anders made a face.

"It's…better you don't ask," Anders replied. "So…um…Tabby," he began, and the girl glanced back at him, "we don't see many Elves in the army," he remarked, and she grinned.

"I handle myself better than most," she replied smoothly, and Anders smiled slightly at her confident tone. Before he could ask her anything else – he was quite curious, as was Liam – they came to the armory, spotting the quartermaster's assistant sitting on a crate, trying to get the rust off of some blades.

The man glanced up at their approach, giving Liam and Anders a withering look as he recognized the two. "What's this now; _three_ stooges? You two blighted fools make a new friend?" he asked, nodding towards Adeline, who stepped forward.

"I've got orders to get them ready for inspection," she said in an authoritative voice, and the man shrugged, going back to working the rust off the sword on his lap, brushing off her words.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but they're never going to pass inspection. You'd better go to the colonel and ask for a posting into a new patrol," he replied, and Adeline crossed her arms, thinking for a moment.

"But…if they go on patrol, they may get hurt. Even _killed_ ," she argued, and she nudged Liam with her elbow and winked while the quartermaster's assistant wasn't looking.

"It's true. We could be eaten by darkspawn. Or cut down fighting insurgents," Liam chimed in, and Anders stared at the two with round eyes.

"Wait, what?" he asked, slightly nervous, and the assistant glanced up, placing a hand on his chin and seeming to like the idea.

"You've got a point there… Regulation swords, right?" he asked, standing and walking to a weapon rack, picking up three blades. "Take these. Just mind you take care of them – that's good steel," he added, handing each of them a sword. They belted them on and marched out of the room.

"Maker, I can't believe we're actually going to go on patrol! We could fight bandits! Or darkspawn!" Anders exclaimed, and Liam gave him a sideways look.

"What, you mean you didn't join the army to mind the store room? I'm shocked," he replied sarcastically, and Adeline bit back a smile. _I always run into the strangest people,_ she mused, glancing up as she noticed the pair of soldiers watching her.

"So Tabby, have you heard that Ser Cauthrien captured one of the Grey Wardens?" Anders asked, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Really?" she replied, and Liam nodded.

"Yeah," he chimed in. "Some little Elf lass – I hear she's the mastermind behind everything that's happened." _…mastermind? What are they talking about?_ she thought, trying not to make a face.

"I heard that she broke into Teyrn Howe's estate and _killed_ him," Anders murmured, and Liam snorted.

"She did everyone a favor, if you ask me," he muttered, keeping his voice down.

"Careful – you never know who's listening," Anders cautioned.

"So do you believe everything that the regent says? About the Grey Wardens, I mean," Adeline asked, and the two glanced around as they walked.

"…not entirely," Anders admitted softly.

"My uncle was a Warden – I don't see how folk like them could betray the king," Liam whispered. "But the regent is all that's keeping Ferelden together for now. We just…need to have faith," the man added with a sigh, and Adeline pursed her lips. _Well…bad news for Loghain when even his own_ _ **soldiers**_ _doubt him._

"How about you?" Anders asked, and she glanced up at him.

"Me?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Well…I think there are two sides to every story," she replied vaguely.

Before they could ask her any more, they came to the Colonel's office, lining up as they prepared for inspection. The Colonel paced before them, looking the three soldiers up and down carefully. He wondered how the little Elf had gotten into the army, and in _this_ unit – most Elves in Fort Drakon's military were scouts, specializing in reconnaissance and archery, not close combat.

"So, you think you're ready to go on your first patrol mission, do you?" The Colonel asked, stopping before the three. The Elf awkwardly raised a hand, not sure how to get his permission to speak, and the man nodded slightly, motioning for her to continue.

"Where are we patrolling?" she asked, her voice curious.

"Your area will be between here and Dragonmount Bannorn," he replied. "I expect you to remain alert for signs of darkspawn, and to report back immediately if any are sighted."

"You don't want us to fight them?" the girl asked, and the Colonel scoffed, looking at the three recruits and shaking his head. _Greenhorns,_ he thought, _darkspawn don't go down that easily._

"Don't make me laugh! The lot of you are too green to be more than an appetizer for the likes of them," the man barked out. "No! You come back here and you get the cavalry! Understood?" he asked, and the three nodded furiously.

"Yes, ser!" they shouted.

"That's what I like to hear!" the Colonel replied. "You there!" he added, looking at Anders, who nearly leapt out of his skin.

"Yes, ser!" the man gasped, throwing a hurried salute. The Colonel almost rolled his eyes at how jumpy the recruits were. _I'm not going to bite their heads off,_ he thought, trying not to snort.

"Stand up straight! You're a soldier in the King's Army, and the King's own men don't slouch!" he ordered, and Anders straightened. "And you!" the Colonel said, turning to Liam, who had been twitching and fidgeting nervously.

"Yes, ser!" Liam cried, straightening.

"Stop fidgeting. You can fidget on your own time," the man said, and Liam nodded.

"Yes, ser! Thank you, ser!" Liam stammered out, and Anders glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Kiss-arse," he muttered under his breath, and Liam shot him a glare while the Colonel's back was turned.

"I expect the lot of you back here by sunup. Now get out of here. And Maker watch over you," the Colonel said, and the three marched out of the room, letting out a collective sigh of relief once they were down at the other end of the hall.

 _Thank the Maker,_ Adeline thought, following Anders as he took the lead. The three walked down the halls, stopping by a door with a pair of soldiers on either side. "Password?" one of the men asked, and Adeline raised an eyebrow, nudging Liam's arm as Anders said the password.

"What do we need a password for?" she asked, and Liam looked at her oddly.

"You don't know?" the soldier questioned as they walked through a hall where the siege weapons were being inspected and repaired. "That section of Fort Drakon is where all the high-profile criminals are kept," he explained, and Adeline nodded slightly.

"Security seemed pretty lax," she murmured, more to herself than the others. _They left_ _ **one**_ _guard to keep an eye on the 'mastermind' of the Grey Wardens? They must be really understaffed,_ she thought.

oooo

Zevran and Oghren had taken a wrong turn as they walked through the fort, ending up in the chapel. The walls were bare, and the only thing that marked it as a place of worship was the small statue of Andraste on a raised pedestal towards the back of the room. An elderly priest was kneeling in prayer, glancing up as she heard the two enter the room.

She stood with a bit of effort, walking over to them slowly and nodding her head in greeting, her eyes darting quickly between the two strangely dressed people. "Ah! I didn't see you standing there. May I help you?" the old woman asked. Zevran opened his mouth to speak, but Oghren cut him off, taking a handful of coins from his pocket and passing them to the woman.

"Look, here's ten sovereigns. You didn't see me here, all right?" the Dwarf said, and the priest stared at him in bewilderment. Zevran let out a sigh and slapped his forehead, and Oghren looked at him oddly. "What?" the Dwarf asked.

"You what? Who are you? _Guards!_ " the woman cried, and Zevran and Oghren stiffened, glancing up as a patrol of three guards ran into the chapel.

"Uh, yes ma'am!" the shortest guard asked, and Zevran bit back a smile – he recognized the voice immediately. _Of course she would break out herself,_ he thought, trying not to chuckle.

"We're under attack!" the priest exclaimed, pointing to the two oddly dressed men. Adeline glanced between the two guards that were with her.

"Here, I'll take care of this – you two head off to patrol, and I'll catch up," she insisted, and the two men nodded, looking warily at the Elf and Dwarf, but leaving when they saw they were unarmed, and the Revered Mother was just overreacting. "Er, okay you two, I'll have to ask you to surrender, before you cause any more trouble," Adeline said to the two, and Zevran nodded.

"Of course," he complied, motioning for Oghren to come along quickly as Adeline marched them out of the chapel and back down the hall.

"Which way did you come in?" she whispered, and Oghren nodded down the hall.

"Over there," he rumbled.

As they left the hall, entering the front room of the fort, one of the guards by the door looked at Oghren and Zevran and raised an eyebrow. "Didn't I _just_ let those two through here?" he asked Adeline, who shrugged, jerking a thumb over her shoulder, indicating the hall where they had come from.

"They were harassing a priest," she replied simply, and the guard groaned.

"Just…don't tell the captain, alright? I don't want to end up scrubbing the kennel floors. Again," the man muttered, and Adeline nodded, escorting the pair out of the fort. The three made their way down the steps, disappearing into an alleyway once they were out of sight.

Adeline let out a long sigh and pulled off her helmet, making a face at the helmet-hair and running a hand through the red strands. She grinned at her friends, shaking her head at the two. "How did I _know_ you were going to pull a stunt like this?" the girl chuckled, walking between them as they strolled down the midnight streets, keeping to side-streets and alleyways as they headed back towards Eamon's estate.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to go back and wait for us? We had an excellent rescue planned…" Zevran chuckled, and Adeline smirked as she looked at their frilly outfits.

"Oh, no doubt. Are those _clown_ costumes?" she asked, and Oghren made a face, tugging at the collar of his shirt in discomfort.

"You won't _believe_ what they wanted me to do to get you out," the Dwarf muttered, and Adeline smiled at the two.

"Well, I appreciate the effort," she replied. She bent over, pulling Oghren into a warm hug, turning to Zevran and doing the same. "I'm glad that you'll always have my back," she sighed, and the two smiled at the girl as they walked. She suddenly thought of something, letting out a groan and covering her face, already knowing the answer. "…is Alistair mad?" Adeline asked in a tiny voice, and Zevran chuckled.

"Furious," he replied, and she let out a louder groan.

"Well…it was nice knowing you two," she sighed, suddenly not so eager to reach the estate.

oooo

"So here's Eamon's estate?" Selina asked as she, Aedan and Riordan neared the place. The three had reunited outside of the Arl of Denerim's estate, and Selina had treated the older Grey Warden's injuries before they made their way to the Market District.

"Yes – that's the Guerrin crest," Aedan replied, pointing to the banners hanging by the gates. As they neared, a sentry called down for them to halt, and the three waited as he made his way down from the wall, hurrying over.

"Please state your business with the Arl of Redcliffe," the man said, and Aedan unbuckled the red-steel knife from his belt, handing it to the guard in its sheath.

"We are friends of Adeline Tabris – she sent us here to take shelter from Loghain and Howe," he replied. The guard unsheathed the blade – he recognized it as Adeline's – but gave the three suspicious looks.

"Please, would you send Ser Alistair to see us?" Selina added, and Riordan glanced at her.

"Alistair?" he echoed. He glanced at the guard before looking up at the estate. "Would you also tell him that the Grey Warden Riordan is here?" The guard looked between the three and nodded slightly, heading inside the estate with Adeline's knife.

A few minutes later, Alistair, Sten and Leliana came outside, hurrying over. "Oh good, you made it – I was starting to worry," Leliana breathed a sigh of relief, greeting the three. "They're friends," she added to the sentry, who nodded and returned to his post.

"Alistair, it's good to see you again," Riordan greeted, shaking Alistair's hand as the young man offered it.

"You are…Riordan, yes? I remember you from my Joining," Alistair recalled. "Leliana said that Howe had captured you," he remarked, and the older man chuckled.

"Yes. He claimed that he wanted to parlay, and poisoned my drink," Riordan admitted.

"And you are?" Alistair added, glancing at the other two.

"Aedan Cousland and Selina Amell," Aedan introduced them, giving a short bow, and Selina bobbing a curtsey.

"Cousland…" Alistair echoed, his face falling. "You have my condolences, Ser," he said, and Aedan chuckled at the formality.

"You can just call me Aedan – no need for such formality," he insisted, and Alistair smiled slightly.

"As you wish," he relented, glancing between the three. "Now, let's go inside – I'm sure Eamon will be eager to meet you," he added. Leliana remained outside, sitting by the fountain to wait for Adeline, Zevran and Oghren to return.

As they entered the main hall, Selina stopped in her tracks, looking up at the stairs with wide eyes; Jowan was standing at the middle of the staircase, nearly tripping down the rest of the flight as he spotted Selina. "…Jowan?" she asked, her voice soft. It wasn't that she hadn't believed Adeline when the Elf told her that Jowan was alive – seeing him after all this time was still a shock, no matter what.

"Selina?" Jowan exclaimed, staggering down the steps and keeping a tight grip on the handrail. His eyes were conflicted, mixed with relief, shame and guilt as he looked down. "Maker's breath, I never thought…" he whispered. He nearly leapt out of his skin as Selina crossed the hall in seconds, throwing herself into his arms and hugging him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I'm so glad you're safe!" she gasped, her eyes reddening with happy tears. "I'm so glad…" she sobbed, and Jowan awkwardly patted her shoulder, looking like a frightened rabbit.

"Let's leave them for now," Aedan suggested in an undertone, walking with Riordan and Alistair towards Eamon's office. Sten muttered something under his breath that sounded like 'saarebas' before heading down a side hall.

oOo

"Adeline, thank the Creators!" Neria cried as she spotted me – she and Leliana had been sitting out in the courtyard before the front doors, waiting for us. The two leapt at me, pulling me into a tight hug, and I cringed.

"Ribs…breaking…" I groaned comically, and the two backed down, smiling as they looked me over, making sure I was unharmed.

"Leliana told everyone what happened," Neria explained as she took my hand, walking with me back towards the doors. "I'm glad to see that you're alright," she added, patting my shoulder gently. We headed into the main hall, where the others were waiting for us. I was swamped by my friends, smiling slightly as the air was filled with mixed exclamations of relief and scolding.

I spotted Alistair, once things had settled down – his eyes were shining with relief as he came over. "Alistair, I know I broke my promise," I began, "but it was supposed to be a rescue mission with no combat at all."

He let out a long sigh, shaking his head. "It's never that easy," he murmured, and I looked down. He gently wrapped his arms around my shoulders, and I glanced up, seeing the worry in his eyes. "I'm glad that you're alright," he said softly, and I smiled weakly. "Eamon will probably want to see you as soon as possible," he added, and I nodded.

"Right," I sighed. "Let me get out of this armor, and I'll be right there." I glanced at a serving girl nearby, motioning for her to come over. "Could you please prepare a bath for me?" I asked, and she nodded, trotting off to prepare the basin in my room.

oooo

Alistair and I walked to Eamon's office, and I fought back a scowl – Anora was there, standing by Eamon's desk. "Maker's breath! It's good to see you in one piece, my friend," Eamon sighed with relief as he spotted me.

"Indeed. After your rather alarming lack of subtlety, I feared the worst for you. I prayed for your safe return," Anora added scathingly.

"Yes… Thank you for setting your father's lapdog after me, by the way. Getting out of Fort Drakon was fun," I replied, keeping my tone light.

"Well, what did you expect me to do? You announced me to my father's most trusted lackey! Did the purpose of my _disguise_ entirely escape you?" Anora scoffed, and I rolled my eyes.

"Don't flatter yourself; the disguise was terrible," I snorted. "The guards your father hires might be stupid, but they're not blind – they would have recognized you even if I _hadn't_ said anything."

She didn't seem to have anything to say in response, so instead, she cleared her throat, changing the subject. "I am hoping that, despite our unfortunate beginning, we can still work together. Will you hear me out?" she asked, and I crossed my arms.

"I promise nothing," I replied coolly.

"We will need to work together, and quickly," Anora insisted. "My father has gone mad. I didn't believe it at first, but he is gripped by a paranoia so severe it prevents him from seeing sense," she began. "He saw me as a threat, yet even now I'm certain he will be telling the nobles you are dangerous murderers that have kidnapped and mind-controlled me. He may even believe it."

"Can he still take the throne without you?" I asked, and she knitted her fingers together, looking at me steadily.

"Perhaps," she admitted. "It will be more difficult for him, but if my father says the Grey Wardens are the enemy, many will believe it. He is a legend," she sighed.

"It's true. Our position in the Landsmeet is not strong, and this does little to help us," Eamon added, and I pursed my lips.

"At least that snake Howe is dead," Anora remarked. "That alone will not be enough, however. My father is committed to his path. You will need ammunition for the Landsmeet, and there I can help," she added. "You have only just arrived in the city, so perhaps you are unaware of some…recent events," Anora continued, unfolding her arms and looking at Eamon. "Denerim has been in turmoil since Ostagar. Many people here are angry or grieving." She turned her gaze back to me. "Strangely, the unrest is worst in the Alienage. Few Elves accompanied the army – they should have little reason to be upset…which means that Howe and my father must have _given_ them reason." At the mention of the Alienage, I felt the blood drain from my face, and my jaw clenched. "I don't know what is happening there, but I am certain my father has his hands in it," Anora continued, seeing the flash of distress in my eyes.

"A useful lead, Anora, but…you could have sent this information with your maid," Eamon observed.

"That is true. I feared for my safety as Howe's prisoner, but to tell the truth I sent Erlina to you because I hoped we might join forces," Anora replied. "You need that evidence for the Landsmeet, but you also need a stronger candidate for the throne. You need me."

"It sounds more like you need us," I remarked, and Anora looked at me squarely.

"I have no doubt Alistair is biddable enough, and decent, but even with his blood he is no king. You think only I can see it?" she replied. _He's…right here, you know,_ I thought, glancing at Alistair out of the corner of my eye. He hadn't moved, but I could feel him tense slightly at her words – it was as if Anora wasn't even aware of his presence. "Not only that, Alistair is a Grey Warden. It will look like you are trying to put a Grey Warden on the throne, despite your claims. I am a neutral party – and I am already queen," the woman continued.

"Anora, you are indeed Cailan's widow, but…" Eamon began, and Anora shot him an icy look.

"I am the daughter of Ferelden's greatest general. Who do you think truly ruled this nation for the last five years? _Cailan?_ " she asked almost derisively. " _I_ am what this country needs, not an untrained bastard prince who does not even _want_ the throne. I can help you stop my father," she continued. "Consider what I have said," she added, giving me a pointed look. "For now, I think I will retire to my room. Warden, when you have a moment I ask that you speak to me in private."

Anora swept out of the room with Erlina at her heels. I looked up at Alistair, seeing the anger behind his eyes – he was _fuming_ after Anora's little speech. Eamon let out a soft sigh, looking at us apologetically. "Well, she's quite…spirited. I remember when Loghain first brought her to Denerim," Eamon remarked. "Poor Cailan was a good boy, but Anora was always two steps ahead. Had him jumping when she snapped since the first time she batted her eyelashes," he recalled. "I cannot help thinking she may be trouble. But we should keep her close, all the same," Eamon cautioned, and I nodded.

"I'll be careful, my Arl," I promised. "I'll see to the Alienage tomorrow – for now, I suppose I'll go talk to Anora," I sighed, not looking forward to it. The Arl nodded, bidding us good evening as Alistair and I left.

oooo

"So…Anora…" Alistair began as we walked down the hall.

"Don't get me started with Anora," I growled. "If she weren't such a good bargaining chip, I'd stick a knife in her back before you could say 'darkspawn'."

"Bargaining chip?" Alistair chuckled, patting my shoulder gently. "I…suppose that's true. She doesn't have much power with Loghain as regent. All she has is reputation," he admitted.

"What makes her think she'd be a good ruler?" I scoffed. "The first sign of trouble, and she hands the throne off to daddy dear," I snorted. "And Ferelden hadn't exactly hit a golden age under Cailan's rule, whatever she claims."

"So does that mean you…plan to make me king?" Alistair asked, and I stopped, looking up at him. I let out a long, slow breath, running my hands through my hair.

"Do you want that?" I replied softly. He looked thoughtful, and I took his hands. "Alistair…I…wish I didn't have to force you to make such a decision. You know I wouldn't force you to do anything if I didn't have to…" I whispered, and he smiled weakly.

"If it keeps Loghain off the throne, then yes," he replied, squeezing my fingers gently, "make me king." I raised his hands to my lips, gently kissing his knuckles.

"You will make a fine king, my love," I smiled, though it didn't reach my eyes. "I need to go speak to Anora now, though." I paused, thinking of something. "She's probably going to try and get me to support her bid for the throne," I added, and a small smile spread across my lips, "which I will be all too happy to agree to."

"Oh, you are so wicked," Alistair chuckled, shaking his head.

"I'd like her to see how it feels to have the rug pulled out from under her for once," I replied, giving him a roguish wink. "Oh, and a serving girl's running a bath for me," I added, tapping my chin as I looked up at him.

"Is she now?" he replied, leaning against the wall.

"I…wouldn't be opposed to some company…" I murmured, running a finger lightly across his jaw and winking again before heading down the hall. I found Erlina waiting outside of Anora's room, and the Elf let me in, closing the door so that the queen and I could speak privately.

Anora stood by the fireplace with her hands folded neatly by her waist. She had changed to a gown – one of Isolde's, probably – and had neatened up her hair into a pair of braided buns at the base of her skull. Her expression was neutral as she turned to face me.

"Hello again, Warden. It is good that you came to speak with me," she greeted as I walked over to her. "I realize that my…actions at Howe's estate may not have painted me in the best light. For that I apologize, and hope that we can start again," she added. _Keep dreaming – you would hand us over to Loghain on a silver platter if you gained anything by it,_ I thought, though I managed to keep my expression calm. "I will be blunt. I can see that your voice will be a strong one in days to come. It is to you that Eamon listens, and with good reason," she continued. "My father must be stopped, but once that is done Ferelden will need a ruler. I would welcome your support for my throne."

 _Oh good,_ I nearly smiled, _this will be easier than I thought._ "Are you proposing an alliance?" I asked, and Anora nodded, her eyes flashing.

"That is exactly what I am proposing. When the time comes, you support my bid in the Landsmeet to remain on the throne," she replied. "You will be seen as my father's enemy, yet you will be in support of his daughter. You will be seen as supporting the interests of Ferelden as opposed to solely those of the Grey Wardens," she argued. "In return, I add my voice to yours. Do you see? Together we can do what alone we cannot."

I pursed my lips, looking thoughtful for a few moments – I didn't want her to think she could win me over that easily. "I think I would need more than just your support," I remarked.

"Once I am queen, I will be in a position to grant you whatever you wish. And I shall," Anora promised. "Alistair might promise you the same, I suppose, but I would ask which is better: the gratitude of a weak king or of a strong queen?" she added. "And even if it is not for you, think of what I could do for the Grey Wardens. Think of what I could do for your people."

"Very well – you have my support," I said, and Anora nodded, seeming pleased.

"That is good to hear," the queen replied. "So we have a deal, Warden. I trust you'll keep your end of the bargain… Now, I suppose, comes the task of dealing with my father," Anora added. "That will be no small feat, of course, but I am certain you already know this." She looked pensive for a few moments before glancing back at me. "I imagine you have much to do. Is there anything else you needed from me?" she asked and I shook my head.

"No – I should probably go," I replied, bobbing my head slightly before leaving. I spotted Aedan in the hall as I headed towards my room, waving to him in greeting. "Glad to see you're alright," I said, clasping the man's arm.

"I think I should be saying that to _you_ ," he chuckled. "It's not every day that you can just walk out of Fort Drakon." I shrugged, smirking up at him.

"I have more luck than I deserve, honestly," I replied. "So you're holing up here as well?" I added, and Aedan nodded.

"Yes – Selina and I will be sticking around until after the Landsmeet," he said. "I just finished speaking to Alistair – would have been nice to know I'd been speaking to the last Theirin," he added, and I raised an eyebrow. "He promised to restore the Teyrnir to my family, if he's made king. I didn't know what he was talking about until I remembered overhearing the rumors at the Gnawed Noble," he explained, and I chuckled. "I suppose the sign of a good king is being able to speak to him easily," he remarked. "If my word means anything there, I'll throw in with your lot at the Landsmeet. Maker knows, we need someone who actually _gives_ a damn about what's happening to the country," he sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead tiredly, his eyes distant as he thought of Highever, I supposed.

"If you need help taking your lands back, I could send word to the Dalish – they're the closest of the allies we've gathered," I offered, but Aedan shook his head.

"Thank you for the offer, but you should save your forces for the darkspawn," he replied. "By the talk back at the Arl of Denerim's estate, it sounds like the people of Highever are ready to take the castle back on their own. With Howe dead, his soldiers will lose heart – I just need to head home and rally the nearby towns." I smiled at the determination in his tone – Aedan sounded like he had been waiting for this for a long time.

"Just so you know, my offer stands," I said, and he smiled.

"Thank you, Adeline," he replied, taking my hand. "Now…I imagine you'll need some rest after that ordeal," he added, and I chuckled.

"Indeed," I admitted, bidding him goodnight and heading down the hall.

oooo

I lowered myself slowly into the steaming water, letting out a long sigh of contentment as it washed over my skin. Alistair joined me, and I leaned back against him as he wrapped his arms around me, relaxing in the warm water. "So how did you escape the fort? The others told me you were walking around in a guard uniform," he asked quietly, running his hands through my hair as I soaked it in scented oils Leliana had bought me, the smell of honey wafting around us. I let out a soft sigh as he massaged the oil into my scalp, and he chuckled as I practically melted in his arms.

"Mmm…there was only one guard on duty," I remarked, and he raised an eyebrow, pausing for a moment.

"In a high-profile prison like Drakon's dungeons?" he repeated, sounding almost incredulous, and I chuckled, nestling against him as he continued to massage my head.

"I think they're severely understaffed, what with the war and the Blight," I murmured.

"So how did you…?" he trailed off as a blush rose along my throat, and he smirked, leaning forward a bit to try and see my face. He chuckled as I continued to look away, and I shivered as he placed a soft kiss behind my ear. "You seduced him, is that right?" he whispered, nuzzling my cheek playfully, rubbing against it with his stubble.

"…yes…" I mumbled, glancing back at him as his amusement suddenly turned to worry.

"He didn't touch you, did he?" he asked, and I shook my head.

"No, no – I didn't let him get that far," I assured him, and Alistair sighed.

"Thank the Maker," he murmured, kissing my temple. "I would never forgive myself if you had been forced to do… _that_ …" His arms tightened protectively around me, and I smiled, closing my eyes and resting my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"I'm sorry for worrying you," I sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. He rested his fingers over mine, pressing his lips into my hair as we held each other, basking in the other's warmth. "I knocked the guard out before anything happened, and managed to find some armor, disguising myself as a new recruit," I continued, and he let out a soft breath, running his hand gently over my cheek and stroking the length of my jaw with his thumb. "I met up with a few guards going on patrol outside of the fort – on my way out, I found Zevran and Oghren, and I managed to get away from the guards. We left shortly after," I finished, and Alistair kissed me gently, shaking his head.

"This shouldn't have happened," he murmured. "I know you were careful…but you shouldn't have trusted Anora," he added, and I chuckled.

"Lesson learned, believe me," I replied softly. "Now…" I murmured, leaning against him and kissing his throat, "can you tell me how dressing Zevran and Oghren as circus performers was Eamon's first plan?"

oooo

I felt an anxious knot forming in my chest as I lay in bed that night. We were going to the Alienage tomorrow, and the way Anora was talking, the situation wasn't good. I was restless, sitting up slowly so I wouldn't wake Alistair, slipping out of bed and standing by the window, crossing my arms as I looked out over the dark courtyard.

 _Killing Vaughan…_ I thought, biting my lip as I closed my eyes, letting out a long sigh, _all of the suffering in the Alienage is connected to that night._ I remained still as I heard Alistair get out of bed and join me by the window, feeling his arms wrap gently around my waist and shoulders as he held me. We were silent for a long time, and I leaned back against him.

"It's my fault, you know," I murmured, "what's happening in the Alienage, I mean." Alistair let out a soft sigh into my hair. "It really _is,_ this time," I said before he could argue. "Killing Vaughan…the consequences of that night affected so many people…" Alistair's arms tightened gently around me, and he pressed his lips against the back of my head.

"You're not to blame," he whispered. "You are a victim, as much as everyone else in the Alienage." I turned around, looking up at him, and he smiled gently at me as he cupped my face with a hand, running his thumb along my cheek. "Adeline, there was nothing that you could do. Please…forgive yourself – _you_ are the only one holding you back."

I stared up at him before smiling at the wisdom in his words, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my cheek against his chest, listening to his warm heartbeat. "Thank you, Alistair," I sighed, and he smiled softly, kissing my forehead as we returned to bed.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Note:

*This Anders isn't _the_ Anders everyone probably knows - I forgot that the name was the same when I was writing this. Let's just assume it's a common Fereldan name, since I've stuck with it too long to change.


	51. Chapter 51: Familiar Strangers

Chapter 51

Familiar Strangers

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

We headed towards the large gates – unbarred now – and as we passed through, I glanced around the Alienage, taking a deep breath. The scent of rotting flesh and ripe garbage assaulted my senses, and I grinned as the others choked on the air – besides Neria and Katja, they hadn't been ready for how intensely the smell of death and decay permeated the Alienage. "Oh, ragged heap of garbage, how I've missed you," I sighed, only half-joking.

"Hey, reminds me of home already," Katja chuckled as she looked about, "just with more sky and plants."

Oghren grunted as he sniffed the air. "And here I thought Elves all smelled of wildflowers and sunshine," he remarked, sounding slightly disappointed.

"Not here, I'm afraid," I replied, stepping lightly over a shallow puddle as we crossed the bridge. I crossed my arms, muttering something under my breath as I watched a trio of Elves kicking the sod out of an unfortunate man, who cursed them as they ran off, limping past us and glaring at Zevran, Neria and me, growling 'bloody knife-ears' under his breath.

Alistair was staring up at the Vhenadahl; he seemed quite impressed by the grand tree, and I smiled slightly. "Now _that_ is a big tree. I wonder if the children get to climb it?" he wondered.

"I did once," I said with a nod. I paused for a few moments, pursing my lips at the memory – I had fallen on my head and nearly broken my neck. "The Elder made me sleep outside for a week," I added, and he laughed. As we stood at the edge of the bridge that led into the Alienage, my heartbeat picked up – I hadn't seen anyone in so long…and most of them probably still thought I had died back when Vaughan had kidnapped us.

"What's wrong? You seem tense," Wynne said gently, and I shrugged stiffly, trying to relax as I took a few slow breaths. I crossed my arms lightly, pausing by the corner of the bridge and looking thoroughly uncomfortable.

"Well, uh…I didn't exactly leave under the best circumstances. I'm pretty sure most people here still think I'm dead," I replied. "Ah, right. I never explained the whole story," I murmured, noticing some of their curious glances. "I'll…get to that later. How about we go to my house, first? It's right there, and it's…ah… _safer_ than standing out here," I added quickly, making a small motion with my hand for the others to follow.

We headed to the old house, and I paused as we stood before it, a sad smile on my face. "I hope Shianni got all my letters. I don't want to scare Dad, just showing up out of the blue like this," I murmured, half to my companions and half to myself. I opened the door, walking in slowly and feeling a strange sense of nostalgia; the place was exactly the same – if a little dusty – and I glanced around as the others followed me in. "Just as I left it," I sighed. "Ah, Sten, you'll have to duck to get in," I added to the Qunari, who lowered his head as he walked in through the low door.

I heard a startled sound from nearby, and I glanced over by the fire, spotting Soris sitting near the hearth. "…Adeline?" he asked in a hushed voice, and I raised a hand in greeting.

"Hey…Soris…" I said awkwardly, wondering what he was doing here.

"You're alive!" he gasped, running over to me. He threw his arms around me, grinning and whirling me around, and I looked up at him with a startled expression once he set me back down.

"Wait, I was sending letters to Shianni. Didn't any of them reach you?" I asked hurriedly, and he nodded.

"Yes, but we assumed you were with the other Wardens at Ostagar…" Soris replied, and I frowned.

"Ah, right. I guess the descriptions on the wanted posters _are_ pretty bad," I remarked, smiling up at my cousin. "Everyone, this is my cousin, Soris," I said, introducing them, and Soris nodded politely, looking a little warily at the rest of the group and giving me an odd look. "So…why are you here? Don't you usually stay with Valendrian and Shianni?" I asked, once everyone had been introduced, and Soris shrugged weakly.

"Things have been…difficult since you've been gone," Soris began, and I raised an eyebrow.

"What happened here? I didn't see many people out on the street," I recalled, and he let out a quiet sigh. His eyes were pained, and I tensed, suddenly remembering what Howe had said about 'culling the herd'. "Soris?" I prodded, not liking his silence, and he shook his head slightly. "Soris, _what happened?_ " I demanded, and he closed his eyes.

I looked at Neria for an explanation, but she simply shook her head. "Everything was fine when I left," she replied, and Soris let out a long, slow breath, looking at me with sadness in his eyes.

"Arl Howe led a purge. Vengeance for Vaughan's death, they say," he whispered, and the room was deadly silent. I felt my legs get weak, and I sat down hard in one of the dining chairs, staring blankly ahead. I had assumed that maybe Howe had let his soldiers come into the Alienage and rough some people up…but I didn't expect an outright _slaughter_.

"A…purge…" I echoed in horror, taking in a long breath. My fingers tightened on my knees, and I glared up at Soris, furious. "A _purge?!_ Maker's _blood,_ they're a bunch of helpless _Elves!_ " I nearly shouted, and Soris flinched. I bit my lip, apologizing quietly and lowering my volume. "How…how many died?" I whispered, my voice catching in my throat as I covered my mouth.

"I don't know," Soris replied quietly, his voice apologetic. "After the purge came some sort of pestilence. It's hard to say who was killed by soldiers and who fell to disease," he added, and I crossed my arms, shaking my head.

"Maker's breath…this is terrible…" I muttered. I glanced around the room, wondering where everyone else was. Dad wasn't here, and neither were Shianni or Valora. "Where's Valora? I didn't see her around anywhere," I asked, and Soris's eyes darkened. He looked at the ground, pain in his voice as he spoke.

"She went to the hospice a week ago. They said…they said she had the plague," he murmured. "I didn't believe it – I mean, she was _fine!_ But they took her to quarantine. I haven't seen her since," he explained, and I stood, worry going through me.

"Where is this quarantine?" I asked, and Soris furrowed his brow slightly.

"A house on the north side of the square. You can't miss it, cousin, there's a huge crowd there now," he described, and I nodded, standing and clasping his arm.

"I'm going to check it out. Stay safe, Soris," I said, looking up at him, and Soris smiled weakly at me.

"Alright. It's good to see you again, cousin," he replied. I glanced back at the others, who had been watching in silence, and we headed out once more.

oooo

We walked through the Alienage, and I heard shouting in the distance. Up ahead was a large crowd of ragged Elves, standing before a house with a pair of oddly-dressed men by the door. _Mages,_ I thought, sensing the faint waves of mana in the air around them. "Well, Soris was right – you can't miss it," I remarked, crossing my arms and listening to an argument nearby.

"I've got children at home! I can't wait out here for another day!" a woman insisted, looking pleadingly at one of the oddly-dressed men.

"So _go_ home! The best thing you can do for your children is not trust these _charlatans!_ " I heard a familiar voice shout back, and I spotted Shianni nearby, her brow furrowed as she scowled at the Elves in the crowd.

"Everyone remain calm. We will help as many as we can today, so long as we can do this in an orderly fashion," one of the men outside of the hospice called above the noise.

"Oh, you're 'helping' us, are you, shem? Like Valendrian and my uncle Cyrion, you helped them, didn't you? Helped them never to be seen again!" Shianni yelled, glaring daggers at the man. He let out a sigh, shaking his head at her.

"We've explained this to you before, girl. More whining will not persuade us to let you into the quarantine to carry plague back out to the Alienage," he argued, and Shianni snorted, unimpressed with his excuses.

"Quit trying to get us all killed, Shianni! Some of us have still got things to live for," an Elf man called from nearby, and Shianni narrowed her eyes at him.

"If this spell of theirs works, why are half the people they quarantine perfectly healthy?" Shianni challenged. The man didn't seem to have an answer for her; instead, he shook his head, ignoring the red-haired girl as the crowd continued to push and shove, trying to get into the hospice.

" _This_ doesn't sound good," I murmured, narrowing my eyes as I looked carefully at the men outside of the hospice. _Tevinters,_ I thought, recognizing their features. I glanced over as Shianni turned around, noticing our group.

"I don't believe it…" she murmured, her eyes widening as she spotted me.

"Good to see you too, cos," I smiled. Shianni's face contorted, alternating between disbelief and joy, and the girl leapt into my arms, hugging me tightly. I patted her back, smiling gently at my cousin as her shoulders shook.

"Maker's _breath!_ They said all the Grey Wardens died with the king. Everyone thought… Valendrian even held a _second_ funeral for you!" Shianni gasped, looking up at me with wide eyes. "Cousin, you have no idea…the things that happened after your wedding… I'm babbling, aren't I? I'm so happy to see you!" Shianni laughed, hugging me again. "So much has happened… It's good you're home," Shianni said, taking my hands in hers, still smiling at me.

"So why's Soris at my place?" I asked, nodding back towards the house, and Shianni made a face, shrugging slightly.

"He was staying with Alarith, but…well, things are a little _tense_ right now. A lot of people blame him," she explained. "Can you _believe_ that? They blame _Soris,_ as if _he_ was responsible for what the new Arl did to us," Shianni snorted, and I narrowed my eyes as I remembered what Soris had said.

"Howe is dead. Denerim goes through Arls pretty quick lately," I remarked, and Shianni's eyes lit up.

"Oh! All these gifts, and it's not even my naming day," she chuckled. "Your handiwork, I take it?" Shianni grinned, and I snorted.

"You just don't care how much trouble you bring down on us, do you? Must be nice to be above your own people," an Elf man scoffed nearby, and Shianni glowered at him.

"Who brought Vaughan here in the first place? Tell me what we did to deserve that, and _maybe_ I'll start caring what you think. Idiot," she spat, shaking her head. "Elves wind up dead in the Market gutters every day over a wrong word, or a look, or nothing at all. That's how it's always been," she sighed. "We fight back, or we submit, but it doesn't change anything. I'm not about to shed a tear over that _butcher_ Howe's death. If I could, I'd kick his grave marker and dance on his ashes," Shianni growled, and I patted the girl's shoulder.

"Good to see you've kept your fighting spirit through this mess," I remarked, and she laughed. "So why do they blame Soris for all this? It's not like we _invited_ Vaughan down here in the first place. People might as well blame you or me for what happened," I added, and she glared back at the crowd, muttering something under her breath.

"Some of them do, but they thought you were _dead_ , and I only told family and Valendrian what _really_ happened once I started getting your letters. And you know I have a meaner right hook than Soris does – he wound up being the Alienage scapegoat; it's not safe for him to even set foot outside, now," she sighed, and I pursed my lips.

"How can they do that? We're supposed to be a community," I grumbled, and Shianni scoffed, rolling her eyes at me.

"You might as well ask why it was only Soris, Neria and Nelaros who came to our rescue that night. Why not the whole Alienage?" she argued, and I made a face.

"I…yeah. I guess you're right," I admitted, knowing it was true.

"They're stupid, scared people, Cousin. They think that since this is the way things have always been, there's nothing to do but make the most of it. They don't know how to change anything," Shianni murmured, shaking her head. "I'd probably think the same thing, if not for you," she added, looking at me with warm eyes.

"What could we have done, anyway? The Arl's got armored soldiers! We've got nothing!" a nearby man argued, and I glared at him until he turned around, cowed by my angry look.

"So what's going on here?" I asked Shianni, indicating the mob of Elves, and the pair of Tevinter mages standing by the hospice doors.

"These people say they're here to help us. Funny thing, the people they 'help' all disappear!" Shianni explained, her tone disgusted as she glared at the pair of mages.

"That's not true, and you know it, Shianni! Both my sisters got protections from the plague, and they're fine!" a woman cried, and Shianni huffed impatiently at her.

"What about your niece, though? And my uncle Cyrion, and Valendrian? Where are they?" Shianni challenged, and my eyes widened in surprise at the mention of my father.

"Wait, what's this about Dad?" I asked, a cold pit forming in my stomach. Shianni looked at me with sad eyes, nodding towards the hospice.

"The Tevinters quarantined your father yesterday. I _told_ him not to go to the hospice! Not _one_ Elf they've taken in there has come out again. Who knows what's become of them?" Shianni explained, shaking her head slightly.

"How long has this quarantine been going on?" I asked, almost dreading the answer.

"A few months after the army fell at Ostagar. People came here fleeing the darkspawn, bringing Blight sickness with them. After the refugees arrived, people _here_ got sick. And these Tevinter vultures began circling, taking people out of the Alienage a few at a time," Shianni explained, and I cocked my head, looking at the mages and wondering what was going on.

"But why would they do that? What good are sick Elves?" I wondered, and Shianni threw her hands in the air, at a loss.

"That's just _it_ , Cousin! Many of the people they take away _aren't_ sick. Not even an occasional sniffle," she replied.

"And what are the sodding _Tevinters_ doing about this?" I asked incredulously, and Shianni narrowed her eyes at the pair of mages as they pulled a perfectly healthy-looking young man out of the crowd, telling him that he was sick and bringing him into the hospice.

" _They_ say the sickness spreading here is a Blight disease that they saw in the Imperium ages ago. Magic can't just make it go away, but it can keep you from getting it, if you're healthy. So every day new people line up to be magicked. And every day, the Tevinters pull someone out of the line and take them to quarantine," Shianni muttered, and my jaw tightened as I slowly pieced things together.

"That is the _dumbest_ thing I've ever heard. I'm going to deal with this, and then we can talk later," I said, my tone like steel as I glared at the hospice. Shianni grinned as she saw the fire in my eyes, nodding in approval and glancing at the hospice as well.

"I knew you'd do something Adeline! Maker watch over you," Shianni smiled.

I brought our group to the side, over by the Vhenadahl; I was pretty sure they all knew what I was planning, but before anyone could tell me how bad of an idea it was, I held up a hand. "Listen. I know this is a bad idea and I'm throwing myself in needless danger and all that. You can lecture me later," I said, giving them a pointed look. "But this is my _family_. My father's probably in there, along with the Elder and my cousin's wife. If there's a chance that I can help them, then I need to take it," I argued, and the others were silent.

"So what do you plan to do?" Morrigan asked, and I nodded towards the hospice.

"Talk to the people in charge, first. If they say anything that confirms my suspicions…let's just say that they'll need more than magic to fix what _I'm_ going to do to them," I replied, my voice low. The others relented, following me as I returned to the hospice, moving through the crowd and approaching one of the Tevinter mages.

"There is no need to push! We will work our spell for each person in–" the man called, trying to organize us, freezing as he spotted me approach. "Hessarian's mercy, how long have you been ill, woman? You should have come here _days_ ago!" he gasped dramatically, and I stared up at him, bewildered by the sudden outburst.

"What? I'm…not sick," I said, looking at him oddly. _Oh? Is this how they do it, then?_ I wondered, glancing over as the other man shook his head quickly.

"You may not yet feel it, but anyone can tell by looking that you have been infected," he remarked.

"All Blight diseases carry some of the taint, and in you it is as obvious as blood in a bowl of water," the first man exclaimed, and I almost snorted with contempt. _It's called being a Grey Warden you charlatan,_ I thought, trying not to roll my eyes as an idea came to me.

"Well…now that you mention it, I _have_ been feeling a bit strange lately…" I said, clearing my throat and coughing slightly. Nearby Elves leapt back, and I almost burst out laughing at how easy this was.

"The time has passed for magic. We must get you into quarantine," one of the men said, opening the door to the hospice.

"Fine, I'll go with you," I agreed, adopting a slightly hunched posture and coughing again, much louder this time.

"The rest of you must stay back. Only the sick are permitted inside," the Tevinter mage warned, looking at the others. When the men weren't watching, I glanced back at the group, giving them a knowing wink and a nod.

"Don't worry, I'm sure they'll take care of me," I said, entering the hospice, followed by a pair of guards the Tevinter mages sent with me. The place was a filthy, run down house that looked as if it had been abandoned for years. I heard faint sobbing from another room, and I stared about in horror as I smelled the faint, coppery tang of blood in the air, spotting the dark stains on the floor.

I was led over to a desk where a man was writing things down in a log book, muttering things to himself as he oversaw the hospice. "What's this?" he asked, glancing up as he heard our approach, looking at me carefully.

"We've got another one," one of the guards replied, indicating me. The supervisor crossed his arms, scratching his chin as he watched me. His eyes flashed in recognition, and he stared at the pair of guards incredulously.

"Wait…that's the one the regent's looking for. One of the Grey Wardens! Five sovereigns to the one who brings down the Warden!" he cried, and the guards leapt back, drawing their swords.

"Oh, bad idea boys," I chuckled darkly, wicked grin on my face as I drew my blades. I moved like a whirlwind through the place, taking out guards as they ran in from the nearby room, their cries of pain echoing off the walls of the hospice as their blood splattered against the floor. I flicked blood off my weapons before sheathing them, prodding one of the bodies with the tip of my boot and looking around in disgust.

I walked quickly into the next room and swore at the sight; Elves were packed tightly into cages pushed into the corners of the room, wailing and sobbing as they stuck their arms through the bars, begging to be let free. I glanced around the cages as I searched for Dad, Valora and Valendrian, narrowing my eyes; there weren't any sick Elves in here at all. "Help us! Please, we're not sick. Let us out of here!" the caged Elves cried, and I nodded, trotting over to one of the guards' bodies and pulling a key ring off of his belt.

"I'm getting you out of there," I said, unlocking the cage doors and swinging them open.

"Thank you! I knew the things they said about you weren't true," a man gasped gratefully, walking out and bowing his head in thanks.

"What happened to my father?" I asked, and the man shook his head, pointing to a door down at the other end of the hospice.

"They took him yesterday, through the back alley with the others," he replied. "We're getting out of here. Andraste watch over you!" the man cried, running out of the hospice with the others once I had released all of the caged Elves.

I trotted to the door as the Elves streamed out, and I heard astonished cries from both the gathered crowd and the Tevinter mages. "What in the Maker's name is this?" one of the mages exclaimed, and I laughed, drawing my blades.

"Hey _asshole!_ " I roared, drawing their attention. I leapt out of the hospice, blades flashing in the sunlight as I bowled into the two men, my knife and sword meeting their throats and killing them before we struck the ground. I knelt with my knees on their throats, getting to my feet and watching as the gathered Elves scattered in terror.

"What happened? Some of the Elves ran out…but I didn't recognize any of them! Where are all the others?" Shianni cried, running up to me and looking down at the bodies of the Tevinters.

"They were the only ones inside. One said the others were taken somewhere else," I replied, sheathing my weapons and indicating the hospice.

"They could be moving through the back alleys. There are all sorts of buildings back there, they could be using one as some sort of…warehouse? Staging area?" Shianni guessed. "I would go to the back of the hospice and maybe follow the alley from there. If you find any more information, please let me know. I refuse to accept that they're all simply…gone!" she added, and I nodded.

The rest of my group had come over, looking at the bodies as well. "Come on, before the Tevinters call for reinforcements," I said, dragging the bodies into the hospice.

oooo

We made our way through the building and out the back door the caged Elf had indicated. There was a door to some old abandoned apartments back behind the hospice, as Shianni had said. "These buildings were abandoned long before we left Denerim," Neria recalled. "Smugglers use them to hide from the guards, sometimes."

I opened the door and we entered carefully, glancing around for any danger. A skinny Elf man was kneeling down at one end of a hallway, rummaging through a pile of garbage. At our approach, he stared up at us with wide eyes, leaping back in panic. "Who's there? Stay away!" he gasped, and I held up my hands, trying to show him that I meant no harm. The man was painfully thin and covered in bruises, and my heart tightened at the sight – this was worse than the usual abuse we dealt with in the Alienage. The Tevinter slavers would have a lot to answer for, when I was done with them.

"Calm down, I just want to ask some questions," I said gently, trying to keep my voice low in case there were more Tevinter guards about.

"I can't say nothing. Please, just go. I don't want trouble," the man whispered frantically, his eyes pleading.

"You must have seen what's going on here. Tell me, please," I urged, and the man shook his head stubbornly, glancing down towards the end of the hall.

"Nothing is going on! Everything's fine!" he let out a shrill, frightened laugh, his eyes red and misting over as he held back tears. "You can't bully anything out of me! Nothing you can do is worse than being the only one left…" he almost wailed, his voice hitching slightly.

"Where is everyone else?" I prodded gently, and he shook his head again, hugging himself as his shoulders tensed.

"They took them! Took them right out of their beds. Dragged them down the hallways. Maker, the little ones crying…" he murmured, his eyes unfocused as he shivered at the memory.

"Have you seen my father? Cyrion. He's an older man, wears a bone ring on a braid over his left ear," I described, my eyes worried. _Please let him be alright…oh Maker,_ _ **please**_ _,_ I thought desperately, feeling my eyes prickling slightly as panicked tears formed in the corners; I couldn't bear the thought of never seeing him again.

"They took him through here yesterday. Looked like a dead man," the Elf recalled, and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

"Where did they take everyone?" I whispered, and the Elf saw the look of desperation in my eyes, pointing down the hallway.

"Through the landlord's old office. They go in there, they never come back," he said, and I closed my eyes for a moment, taking in a shaky breath and trying to calm down.

"What else have you seen?" I asked, and the man shivered.

"Every few days they come back. It's like a parade, a silent one. Men and women and children… You have to go. They'll be back soon. They'll find out I talked, and they'll take me, too! Please, just go!" the man whispered furiously, and I nodded, standing.

"We'll find them," Alistair promised, his voice barely above a whisper as he placed a hand on my shoulder.

The horror and fear had gone from me as I calmed myself, leaving only a dull, hot anger that pulsated faintly through me. I glared down the hall, my eyes cold as ice as I drew my blades. "We _need_ to find them. _Now_ ," I growled, and the others nodded, hearing the fury in my tone.

We ran into guards in a room by the back door, playing cards at a table. They attacked us before I could try to question them, and I cut them down without mercy, taking the keys from one of the men and unlocking the back door. We came to a courtyard, where more guards stood. They were startled by the size of our group, attacking us outright when they saw the blood on our weapons.

oooo

"Be careful," Jowan warned, narrowing his eyes as we entered another warehouse, "I sense powerful magic. _Blood_ magic."

"Fitting, I suppose," Morrigan remarked. "The Tevinters use slaves for their rituals." I shuddered as she spoke, and I covered my mouth, hoping, _praying_ that we weren't too late.

"Please just… _no_." I whispered, and the two fell silent, seeing the disturbed look on my face as we moved through the halls. We came to a wide room, where an Elf woman with dark hair stood, blocking our way with a pair of bodyguards.

"What is the meaning of this? We were told that there would be no interference from the authorities!" the woman barked, and I crossed my arms.

"Do I look like one of the authorities?" I asked, and she narrowed her eyes.

"No. You look like an Elf with more curiosity than sense," she replied, tossing her hair disdainfully. "You will regret this, you know. Believe it or not, we have been given dispensation to do our business here," she continued. "The humans talk a great deal about how very wrong slavery is, but isn't it funny how quickly the smell of gold overcomes such ideals?" she added, her tone dripping with derision as she looked at us.

"Hm, just as I thought," I murmured. "I'm shutting you down, slaver."

The woman looked at our large group, seeing that her group of three was outmatched. "I am no fool. I can see that you are capable," she remarked, motioning for the guards to lower their weapons. "I will let Caladrius deal with you while I fetch the Regent's men," she added, and I smiled.

"Oh, you needn't bother calling them," I said airily, and she raised an eyebrow.

"And why is that, might I ask?" she questioned, and my smile curled cruelly as I flashed my teeth, eyes blazing with fury.

"Corpses can't talk."

oooo

We came to a set of large, double doors, and I threw them open, spotting a bald man with a dark beard standing near cages crammed with terrified Elves. He wore ornate Tevinter robes, and turned to look at me, his eyes disdainful as he ran a hand over his goatee. Jowan stiffened nearby – this man was the blood mage he had warned us about earlier.

"I see we are to have an interruption after all," the Tevinter's voice was uninterested as he looked over us, his eyes lingering on our mages – especially Jowan. "I am Caladrius," he introduced himself with a mocking bow, "And you, I assume, must be the Grey Wardens I've heard so much about."

"I suppose we shouldn't really be surprised at this point," Alistair remarked, and Caladrius gave a low, humorless chuckle.

"One can hardly get a word out of Regent Loghain besides 'Warden' these days. It surpassed even 'gold' in popularity," the Tevinter remarked.

"So Loghain's selling the Elves now, is that it?" I asked, and the man folded his hands into his wide sleeves.

"Yes, you _would_ be curious about that, wouldn't you?" he said. "I have heard that you are trying to erode Loghain's support. It must be a difficult task, yes? Like washing away a mountain," he remarked, and I narrowed my eyes, wondering what he was getting at. "Perhaps you could use some…help," he added, and I snorted.

"Oh, _this_ should be good," I replied, and Caladrius frowned at my tone.

"Sarcasm is beneath us both, my dear Warden," the man said. "Truth be told, there was always a limit to how long we were going to be able to operate here. We've paid for many of Loghain's troops, but once the Landsmeet is done we become… _inconvenient_ ," he continued, whether I was willing to listen or not. "So here is my offer: one hundred sovereigns from you for a letter with the seal of the Teyrn of Gwaren upon it, implicating him in all of this. Then we leave a few days earlier than planned, with our profits and remaining slaves, unharmed," he outlined the arrangement. "So…do we have a deal? Even _you_ must admit it's much better than resorting to barbarism, yes?"

I had been holding onto the balcony that overlooked the room during Caladrius's speech – when I took my hands away from the wood, there were visible indents where I had gripped the rail. My voice was quiet and calm as I replied, but hard as steel. "How about a counter offer?" I asked, and Caladrius raised an eyebrow at my words. "I cut off your head, and shove it so far up your ass that you can see out of your neck. Fair enough?"

Caladrius let out a long sigh, shaking his head at me. "Pity. It looks as if we shall have to settle this the hard way, then. My apologies," he said, raising his hands in the air. The room erupted in blasts of magic, and Tevinter guards streamed in from the door at the other side of the hall, as well as the rooms behind us. I vaulted over the balcony, drawing my blades as I landed and charging Caladrius as my friends handled the other Tevinters.

The mage threw an ethereal shield up as I struck at him, throwing me backwards, and I gasped as an arrow from behind me hit the floor right between my middle and index fingers. I chanced a glance behind me, staring at Leliana – she was aiming an arrow at my head. I ducked out of the way as she fired again, her face red as she gritted her teeth.

"Adeline! Behind you!" she warned – I could sense Caladrius casting another spell at my back as he controlled Leliana with blood magic. Around the room, my companions were battling both Tevinter guards _and_ each other – Neria and Zevran were trying to resist the spell as they fought Oghren, Katja and Alistair, who were immune, and Wynne and Morrigan stood behind Sten as he wrestled Olan to the ground, the mabari snarling as he bit down on the Qunari's bracer.

"Hmm…but how do _you_ resist me?" the Tevinter mage wondered, looking at me. "I understand the Dwarves, and even the Qunari perhaps…" he added, raising a hand as he cast a wave of blood magic over me. I felt it shudder through me, but I brushed it off, running at him again – I had spotted Jowan nearby, keeping out of the fighting as he began building up his mana for one big spell.

"Because you're an amateur," I taunted as I was thrown back again, landing on my feet and jumping to the left as I dodged a throwing knife from Zevran, picking it up and hurling it at one of the Tevinters that had surrounded my non-possessed companions.

"Amateur, am I?" Caladrius asked, raising an eyebrow. He made a vague waving motion over his shoulder, accompanied by a cry of pain, and I glanced back to see Jowan being dragged up the warehouse wall by some invisible force, clawing at his neck as he flailed his legs about. "That pathetic child of a blood mage could never hope to outmatch me," he scoffed, tightening his grip on Jowan's throat, making the man's eyes bulge out of his head.

"Let him go!" I yelled, my eyes flashing. I heard shouts behind me, and a clatter of armor, and suddenly Alistair was beside me, his blade glowing as he let out a burst of smite. Caladrius staggered backwards, and all of my companions regained themselves, overwhelming the Tevinter guards as they came to their senses. Jowan staggered to his feet and raised his arms, casting paralysis on Caladrius before the effects of smite wore off.

"Thanks for that," he gasped, looking at Alistair gratefully as he massaged his throat, dark bruises in the shape of a hand-mark standing out against his skin, and the Templar nodded slightly.

"I'm glad I could get over here in time – he was going to use _you_ to fuel his next spell," he replied, and Jowan made a face, glancing back at Caladrius. I looked down at the mage as he stared up at us in fear – once the others had dispatched the remaining Tevinter guards, they had begun releasing the caged Elves. Wynne went around to them, checking over the sick and injured, but a few began milling about in agitation, glancing at Caladrius and whispering.

"It…seems your reputation is an accurate one," Caladrius choked out, his eyes darting nervously towards the Elves as they glared at him, murmuring amongst themselves – I grinned as I heard them wondering if I'd let them kick the slaver a couple of times.

"Perhaps you should be left to the mercies of these Elves?" I suggested, and Caladrius's eyes widened in fear as the nearby Elves watched him intently, their eyes like starved wolves coming across an injured deer.

"Wait! Hear me out, dear lady!" the Tevinter pleaded, and I crossed my arms, wondering what he would say to try and save himself. "Were I to…use the life force of the remaining slaves here, I could…augment your physical health a great deal!" he stammered out, and I narrowed my eyes. "Allow me to leave this place alive, and I would be more than happy to do this little service for you. So…is my offer of interest to you? Yes?" he asked.

"What makes you think that if I refused your first offer, I'd accept the ritual sacrifice of my kith and kin?" I asked derisively, and his eyes fell.

"Then…I don't suppose you would consider just letting me go?" he asked, and I laughed in his face, turning towards the Elves.

"He's all yours," I grinned, and the Elves let out a resounding cheer, swarming the man as I stepped out of their way. I looked among the injured, ignoring the bloodcurdling shrieks coming from the Tevinter slaver as I searched for my father.

I spotted him – Wynne was treating a wound on his leg – and I ran over, throwing my arms around him. "Dad!" I cried, burying my face in his shoulder as he wrapped his arms tightly around me, his shoulders trembling.

"My little girl…I didn't think I'd ever see you again," he whispered, his eyes reddening with tears. I sniffed as tears ran down my own cheeks, and I laughed softly, kneeling next to him and gently holding one of his hands as Wynne continued to treat his injury – the wound was a large gash down his calf, and it looked infected. "When they said all the Grey Wardens died at Ostagar, I prayed they were wrong. Are you all right? What are you doing here?" he asked and I chuckled.

"I couldn't let them hurt my family. Not again," I replied, and he smiled gently, reaching out and gently brushing away my tears.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You're so much like your mother," he sighed, his eyes warm as he looked at me, and I felt my heart swell with pride at the comparison.

"You really think so?" I asked, and he chuckled, nodding.

"She'd be…well, proud really doesn't describe it," he replied.

"Where's the Hahren? I didn't see him, and I heard that he was taken," I asked, looking around at the Elves – the screaming had stopped, and a few of them had tossed burlap sacks to cover the pile of what was left of Caladrius, wiping their bloodied hands with old rags.

"They took him on the ships yesterday. He's probably halfway to Tevinter by now," my father answered sadly, and I stared at him.

"But why? He's an old man, not a laborer," I questioned, and my father sighed.

"He's educated and well-spoken. They probably want him for a house servant," he explained, his eyes downcast. "This isn't a good place to talk. Come to the house; there's something I should give you," he added, and I nodded, helping him to his feet once Wynne had finished her healing.

Zevran had been investigating a small office off to the side, and came back with a few papers bearing the seal of the Teyrn of Gwaren, detailing the slavers' contracts – Loghain was using Elf blood to pay for mercenaries and weapons from Tevinter. I looked over the papers and nodded – this was just the thing we needed. My companions helped any Elves who were having trouble walking, and we headed out of the warehouse – we couldn't get out of this place fast enough.

Once we returned to the Alienage, I hailed down Shianni, who had been pacing nervously around by the Vhenadahl as she waited for us. Soris had joined her while we were gone, and the two ran over to us, throwing their arms around my father and me. I smiled – my family was safe, at last. As we headed back home – Soris helping me support my father between us – Shianni walked next to me, beaming from ear to ear.

"Cousin, you're amazing," she laughed, "which I shouldn't say to your face, because it'll go to your head," she added as I smirked, "but it's true."

"I do my best," I chuckled, glad to see her genuinely smiling and laughing – it had been far too long.

"Are you sticking around for a while? You're staying for dinner, aren't you?" she insisted. "You'd _better_ ," she added, almost threatening me, and I laughed. "I'll weasel a bottle of wine from Alarith and we can catch up," she added.

"Oh Maker… _you're_ not cooking, are you?" I asked with dread, and a cheeky grin spread across my cousin's face.

"For _that_ , I should go make you my special Denerim-rabbit stew," she teased, and I groaned.

" _Please_ , don't," I begged.

"Rabbit stew? In the middle of Denerim?" Morrigan asked, and I made a face.

"Made with rats," I explained, and a few of my friends jumped with surprise.

"Huh. Can't be worse than tunnel crawler soup," Katja remarked, and I smiled at her optimistic tone.

"Rabbits of the _city_ , Cousin," Shianni corrected. "Really, you've been away too long if that doesn't sound delicious."

"Ah, so this is how you can stand Alistair's cooking," Morrigan guessed.

"I'm right here, you know," Alistair chimed in, but the witch ignored him.

"Well…I suppose a bottle of wine or two wouldn't hurt, after all this is done," I relented, and Shianni smiled, patting my shoulder.

"I'll hold you to that, Cousin," Shianni replied, switching places with Soris as he ran ahead – my father had sent him to do something, I supposed.

oooo

We reached the house a few minutes later, and I set my father down on one of the dining chairs, sitting down next to him as he took my hands. "Let me get a look at you," he breathed, his eyes moving slowly over my frame. "Maker, don't they _feed_ you Wardens? You're all skin and bones!" he sighed, and I smiled at his concern.

"Oh, it's not so bad," I chuckled, and he patted my knee, glad to see that I was alright after all this time. "Did Soris mess anything up while you were gone?" I added teasingly, and he grinned, glancing back at Soris, who had been making a lot of noise on the other side of the partition between the main room and my bedroom – it sounded like he was breaking up the floor or something.

"Ha! You hear that, Soris?" my father called, and I heard a sneeze, and the sound of wooden boards creaking. There was a loud thump as something was shoved back into place, and Soris coughed as a cloud of dust puffed out into the kitchen.

"No, everything's fine," Soris chuckled as he coughed again, coming back and dusting off his hair, holding what looked like an old bundle of burlap cloth under his arm. "If it looks a little messy, it's because I just had to pull up the floorboards to get this for you," he added, indicating the bundle, which he handed to my father.

"This belonged to your mother," my father said, unwrapping the cloth bundle and unsheathing an exquisitely made silverite knife, handing it to me hilt first. "She called it Fang. I think you should have it now," he continued, watching as I slowly turned the knife over, my eyes reflected in the blade's polished surface. "I know you'll do great things; you already do."

"I…I don't know what to say…" I murmured, sheathing the knife. "Thanks, Dad," I grinned, leaning over and hugging him, and he smiled, patting my back.

"Adaia would be so proud of you," he whispered. I stood and buckled the knife onto my belt, next to the one Alistair had given to me, and I smiled softly, running my fingers over the leather-wrapped handle.

I took a long, slow breath, turning towards the others as my smile faded. "I…suppose now's as good a time as any," I sighed, walking to the edge of the room and turning so that I could see everyone. They looked at me curiously as I crossed my arms, leaning against the wall. "I think…you should all know how I became a Grey Warden."

I saw a mix of curiosity, puzzlement, and sympathy cross my friends' and family's faces – the only one who knew the entire story was Alistair, I believed, although Leliana knew much of it as well. "Adeline, you don't have to speak, if you don't want to," Alistair said gently, and I smiled at him, shaking my head as I looked around.

"No…I need to get this off my chest," I replied, closing my eyes as I collected my thoughts. "It started around the end of Drakonis last year," I began. "I knew I was getting married for a while, but Shianni broke the news that my betrothed had shown up early, and that the wedding date had been moved up accordingly; Soris and I were supposed to get married on the same day," I explained. Shianni grinned, biting back a laugh.

"She tried to jump out the _window_ when I told her," she added, and I rolled my eyes.

"Right. I wasn't exactly _thrilled_ by the idea of an arranged marriage," I replied. "Sorry Dad," I added, and he smiled slightly. " _Anyway,_ once I heard the news, Dad sent me to find Soris; he was going to introduce me to Nelaros," I continued. "While we were looking for the rest of the wedding party, the Arl of Denerim's son – Vaughan Kendells – showed up with some of his friends – probably the sons of some minor lords or whatever – and started groping the bridesmaids."

"He came up to me and looked me over like I was some exotic _animal_ ," Shianni spat, her eyes hardening at the memory.

"I tried to be civil with him, but you know how spoiled lordlings can be," I said, biting my lip and glancing at Shianni with a small smile. "While _I_ was being diplomatic, Shianni decided to crack him over the head with a bottle," I continued, and Shianni shrugged.

"Bastard deserved it," she remarked.

"Yes he did," I replied.

"Still…it was a pretty stupid thing to do, even to a _normal_ shem," she sighed.

"Oh trust me lethallan," Neria said, "I would have done worse if I were in your shoes."

"Once Vaughan's lackeys dragged him out of the Alienage," I continued, "Soris introduced me to Nelaros, and to his betrothed, Valora. After _that_ , Soris spotted another human enter the Alienage, and we went over to…um… _eject_ him," I said the last bit awkwardly. "That was Duncan," I added, and Alistair raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean by eject?" he asked with a hint of a smile, and I shrugged.

"Well, Soris and I saw this big, armed and armored stranger come into the Alienage, right after the trouble with Vaughan. I don't think we were out of line being a bit wary of him," I argued. "And I _was_ polite to him, at least. Maker's breath though, Duncan was one of the stubbornest men I'd ever met – I tried to explain that the Alienage wasn't a good place to be for humans, but he was adamant about staying, for some reason," I recalled.

"You looked like you were going to kick him out yourself – _I_ think he was trying to rile you up on purpose," Soris added, and I rolled my eyes.

"Yes. He'd heard of the family temper, apparently," I chuckled. "It turned out that he was one of Elder Valendrian's friends, and that he had come looking for recruits," I continued. "I think…he wanted to meet me, actually; he knew my mother, and had wanted to recruit her years ago, but Valendrian convinced him not to," I said, glancing at my father, who nodded slightly. "Well, anyway, Duncan said that we could talk more after the wedding ceremony, so Soris and I headed up to the rest of the wedding party."

"As the priest was starting the ceremony, Vaughan marched back into the Alienage with a group of armed guards," I recalled, looking at the ground. "He said he was having a 'party' and that he needed female guests. I suppose you can guess his intentions," I added, glancing at the others. They were watching me in silence, listening intently to my story. "So Vaughan had the soldiers round up the bridesmaids, Shianni, and Valora. When I tried to stop them, Vaughan hit me so hard that I blacked out," I sighed, placing my hand on my cheek, remembering the sting of the blow.

"They dragged us to the estate and locked us in an old storage room," Shianni picked up; I had been unconscious for this, and didn't know what happened. "Hm, first thing Adeline said when she woke up was that she was going to kill Vaughan," she added, a grim smirk on her face.

"Sounds like something you would say," Soris snorted, and I laughed.

"The bastard _really_ had it coming, cos," I replied. "I tried to find a way out of there, but the doors were locked tight, and I couldn't find anything that I could use to open them. When the guards came for us, one of the girls, Nola…" I trailed off, biting my lip. "Nola resisted, and the guard captain cut her down without a second thought," I sighed, closing my eyes.

"How cruel," Leliana murmured, and I shrugged.

" _He_ didn't think so, apparently; we were a bunch of gutter-trash whores, as far as he cared," I replied bitterly. "The guards took the other girls, but the captain ordered two men to tie me up – they didn't want me to try and attack, after I threatened Vaughan," I continued. "Once the girls were gone, Soris showed up and passed me Duncan's sword. It didn't end well for the guards," I said, and Soris nodded.

"Nelaros, Neria and I talked to Duncan after the girls had been kidnapped; Nelaros was furious when everyone else just stood around and said to 'hope for the best'. Duncan said that he couldn't interfere directly, but he gave us his sword and crossbow, and we broke into the estate through a servant's entrance," Soris explained.

"No offense, but you don't seem the type to charge into an estate full of armed guards," Zevran remarked, and Soris nodded, his eyes sad.

"…yes. I was terrified, and didn't know what to do…but Nelaros was planning to charge in there on his own, and I couldn't let him go alone," Soris replied.

"I'm still glad you came," I assured him, and he smiled faintly.

"Thanks, cos, but it was Nelaros who did most of the fighting on the way in. Maker's breath, though, you should have seen those two," Soris added, remembering how we had fought. "The estate was painted red with blood, the way Adeline and Nelaros were tearing through the guards; the lunatics were _laughing_ the whole way, as if they were having the time of their lives," he added with a slight shudder.

"Heh, sounds like the boss," Oghren chuckled, and I rolled my eyes at him.

"Oh shush," I replied. I took a deep breath, sighing as my shoulders tensed. "We cut a bloody swathe through the place, but…when we reached Vaughan's room, we…" I bit my lip.

"Vaughan had roughed me up; he called it 'taming'," Shianni hissed in disgust, her eyes flashing with anger at the memory. "Adeline saw me, and her eyes filled with fire – she charged at Vaughan right then and there," she recalled.

"While we were fighting, though, he managed to get his hands on a chalice of wine on a nearby table; he splashed me in the face and blinded me," I described. My shoulders sagged, and I felt a prickle in my eyes at the painful memory. "Nelaros…tried to protect me. Vaughan was a good fencer, though, and ran him through. Nelaros…died in my arms," I murmured, breathing slowly as I tried to keep calm in front of them.

"After that, Adeline killed Vaughan – there was…nothing left that was recognizable, once she was done," Soris picked up, seeing that I was unable to continue. "We found the girls in a locked room nearby, and brought them back to the Alienage. Adeline…stayed at the estate to hold off any guards that came after us," Soris explained.

"Would you not have been able to hide here until the guards had gone?" Morrigan asked, and I shook my head.

"My dress was soaked in blood. The guards would have to have been blind and stupid not to have seen the trail of red that led all the way back to the Alienage, if I had gone with the others. And besides, there are plenty of people here who would have _loved_ to see me burn if I hadn't turned myself in," I retorted. "I surrendered, when the guards surrounded me, and they threw me in a cell in the estate's dungeon. The first change I got, I broke out and fled the city," I continued softly. "I learned later that Duncan had come looking for me, but to save face, the guards had told him that I had been killed already," I added. "I went to Orzammar, then – I suppose you remember meeting me along the way," I remarked, nodding to Zevran, who smiled slightly.

"I _did_ wonder what a lone Elf woman was doing on the North Road," he replied.

"Duncan found me in Orzammar a few months later, and recruited me into the Grey Wardens," I finished. "So…there you have it. That's what happened to me."

"What an awful experience," Leliana murmured, looking at me sadly.

"Oh come on, I'm not going to collapse into a bawling mess," I muttered, letting out a small sigh. "I've…put the past behind me. Nelaros…told me, before he died, that I shouldn't linger on this. And I've tried not to. My past is no more tragic than some of your own – I'll not have you looking at me pityingly, now that you know," I added sternly, and they smiled faintly.

"Wouldn't dream of it my dear," Alistair replied, and I smiled a bit.

"Thank you. And I'm sorry I never told everyone the whole story. I just…didn't want you to treat me differently," I apologized.

oOo

The others had returned to the estate for the evening, and Adeline remained behind for a few minutes to spend a little time with her family. Alistair stood outside of the Tabris's house, leaning against the wall; he wanted to make sure Adeline came back safely – he was sure that Loghain's men would leap at the chance to recapture her – but he didn't want to intrude on her family life.

The door creaked open, and he glanced over as he saw Shianni walk outside. She looked a lot like Adeline, he thought – same fiery hair and light skin, with a slim figure and delicate features. Her honey-brown eyes were guarded and searching as she watched him, though, and Alistair remained silent, sensing her unease. _After what happened, I don't blame her one bit for being cautious,_ he thought.

"I never thought Adeline would fall for a shem," she remarked, crossing her arms and looking Alistair up and down.

"I'm sorry?" Alistair replied, more surprised by her immediate questioning than the question itself.

"Don't play dumb," Shianni gave him a scathing look. "I saw how you were watching her the whole time we were in there." She shook her head, letting out a soft sigh. "But…she seems happy. Despite everything that's happened…" the Elf looked back up at him, "if you can make her smile, then you can't be all that bad."

"I…um…thank you?" Alistair tried, and Shianni smiled slightly. She suddenly punched him in the arm, grinning at his startled expression.

"Try to stay on my good side – Adeline's not the only one who can kill a man barehanded," she winked, returning to the house.

Alistair remained silent as she left, still looking a bit startled when Adeline came out of the house a short while later. She looked up at him, chuckling as she saw his expression. "Ah, I wondered what Shianni was doing out here," she said, looping her arm in his. "Did she threaten you?" she asked, and he smiled slightly.

"Sort of?" he replied. "Are you sure you don't want to stay longer? You haven't seen your family in so long," he added, and Adeline shrugged.

"Now that the Alienage has settled down, and the Tevinter slavers are gone, I can visit them without a problem," she said. "And if we stayed any longer, Shianni might have made us dinner," she added, and Alistair chuckled.

"So does she _really_ use rats in her stew?" he asked curiously, and Adeline grinned.

"Yes. Big ones," she replied. "I mean, you can't taste it in the stew – it's sort of like stringy rabbit – but you just…don't see it the same once you know the truth," she added. The two walked through the quiet streets of Denerim, heading through the empty market place as they returned to Arl Eamon's estate for the evening.

oooo

"The Landsmeet is in a few days," Alistair remarked as the pair returned to their room.

"Don't worry about it, Alistair," Adeline chuckled as she pulled on her nightgown. She slid into bed and gave him a light peck on the cheek, leaning over and blowing out the candle on her nightstand. "We've got the support of at least two powerful nobles, now that Howe's torture chambers have been exposed, and Arl Wulff is angry that everyone's more focused on politics than the darkspawn."

"I…know," Alistair sighed, wrapping his arms around her as he pulled Adeline to him, resting his forehead against her hair as she lay with her back against his chest. He smiled slightly, kissing the back of her head. "But once the Landsmeet is over, things will start moving quickly," he added, and Adeline felt his arms tighten around her. "I just get a bit anxious, thinking about it," he admitted.

Adeline rolled over, wrapping her arms around his neck as she looked at him. His eyes were troubled, shining silver in the pale moonlight, and she smiled gently, kissing him. "I'll be with you every step of the way, my love," she whispered. "This I swear."

oooo

Neria walked along the wall top, her hands clasped lightly at the small of her back as she approached the lone man standing by the parapets. His hair was bleached white in the moonlight, and he turned slightly at Neria's footsteps before looking back over the empty market. He had been acting strangely towards her since she had refused his earring, and Neria was getting worried – it was so unlike him to get emotional.

"It's a nice night out," Neria remarked softly, glancing sideways at Zevran as the man remained silent beside her. "Moon's full, stars are out…" she continued. "It…reminds me of our first night together." She turned to look at him fully, but the assassin remained still and silent, his eyes holding no emotion – it was as if she weren't even there. "Is something wrong?"

The question hung in the air for a long time, and Zevran let out a sigh, turning slightly. His eyes held Neria's gaze, and she saw confusion in them – there was uncertainty and fear, and she didn't know what to say to him that would help. "I do not wish to talk about it," he said shortly, his words feeling almost clipped at the ends, and Neria observed his demeanor.

"Are you sure? You look like you _do_ want to talk about it," she replied. Zevran shut his eyes and ran a hand over his face, letting out a sigh and a stream of words in Antivan under his breath.

"No, I do not," he insisted. "Leave me." Neria nodded slightly.

"…as you wish – I'll leave you alone." The Dalish woman left him by the parapet, her eyes downcast as she headed towards the stairs.

Zevran waited until she was out of earshot, running his hands through his hair as he looked up at the night sky. He had been turning it over since Taliesen had summoned him. He was riding a wild wave of feelings that he had been trying to tame, but his emotions kept getting the better of him – trying to block out what he felt was as futile as trying to dam up a flooded river with a toothpick.

Zevran was afraid – he had opened his heart to Rinna, and Rinna alone. Taliesen had been a brother to him…but the Elf knew that the man would stab him in the back if their master commanded it. Even _Adeline_ , one of the few women Zevran could truly call a friend, a little sister, didn't know the entirety of his secret – his weakness. Only Neria had truly touched him inside; she opened the old wounds that had festered, and allowed them to heal.

And now he was pushing her away because he couldn't properly tell her how he felt.

"Mierda…" he swore, turning on his heel and walking after her. "Neria," he said, but she ignored him, moving a little faster. "Neria!" Zevran called louder, picking up his pace as she broke into a run. He caught her arm before she reached the stairs, but let go when he saw her face – she was crying. The woman looked down, hugging herself as she took a few steps away from him.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered. Zevran let out a soft sigh, taking a step towards her, waiting for her to move away. When she didn't, he continued until he was standing in front of her. He reached up, gently brushing the tears from her cheeks.

"You have nothing to apologize for, mi querida," he murmured. "I have been acting childish," he admitted. "I…should explain myself." He pulled the kerchief from his pocket, handing it to her, and Neria dabbed at her eyes, clutching the cloth between her fingers as she listened. "An assassin…must learn to forget about sentiment," he began. "It is dangerous. You take your pleasures where you can, when life is good. To expect anything more would be reckless," he explained. "I…thought it was the same between us. Something to enjoy; a pleasant diversion and little more. And yet…" he trailed off, shrugging weakly, and Neria's eyes widened with realization.

"You…are you saying that you're…in love with me?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper.

"I don't know. How would you know such a thing?" Zevran countered, his eyes full of confusion. "I grew up amongst those who sold the illusion of love, and then I was trained to make my heart cold in favor of the kill. Everything I have been taught says what I feel is wrong," he continued. "Yet…I cannot help it. Since you and I have been together, I have been nothing but confused," he admitted. "Do you understand me at all?"

Neria's tears had stopped, and she smiled weakly at the man, reaching out and taking one of his hands. "I do. And I feel the same way," she replied. Zevran let out a long, slow breath as the tension melted from his shoulders, and a small smile spread across his lips.

"I…still have the earring," he murmured, taking the earring off and holding it out. "I would like to give it to you…as a token of affection. Will you take it?" he asked, and Neria looked at him with surprise for a moment before her lips curled into the familiar, coy smile Zevran loved so much.

"That sounds like a proposal," she teased, and Zevran chuckled, taking her hand and lowering himself to one knee, looking up at her.

"Not unless you wish it, mi amor," he replied, his eyes serious as he held the earring up to her.

"I'll take it," Neria smiled, taking the earring, and Zevran grinned as he stood.

"Then that is enough for me," he said. "I am sorry for acting so strangely. I think I will be better, now. Much better," he added. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling Neria into a hug and breathing in her familiar scent.

"Zevran?" Neria asked as she tucked the earring away, wrapping her arms around his neck as he held her.

"¿Si mi amor?" he replied.

"I love you," she whispered, giving him a light peck on the lips. Zevran smirked at the chaste kiss, kissing her back fiercely as her grip tightened on him, devouring her mouth until she fell back in his arms, quivering as her knees gave out.

"Y te amo," he breathed, sweeping her off her feet and carrying her down from the wall top, back to their room.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	52. Chapter 52: Friends in High Places

Chapter 52

Friends in High Places

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

As we waited for the Landsmeet – which was in three days – Alistair and I went to the Market District, searching for the Grey Warden Vault that Riordan had told me about. Aedan and Selina had decided to come along as well – despite Arl Eamon's warm welcome, the two didn't want to wear on his hospitality by hanging about the estate.

"So those swords of yours…" Aedan remarked, looking at the blades at our hips, "they're…very similar in design to my family sword."

"Well…" I began, pursing my lips as we came to the address Riordan had given us, "I know this will…probably sound crazy," I continued, stepping into the warehouse and looking at the stacks of crates and boxes piled around the room, "but our three blades were once owned by the same man." I spotted the pair of empty shelves Riordan had detailed, and held the page with the code out for Alistair to see as he turned an elaborate, circular combination lock.

"That doesn't sound crazy to me," Selina remarked, and Alistair shrugged.

"She's not done," he said, not turning his gaze from the lock.

"What if I told you that the man was an Elvhenan Arcane Warrior – both mage and warrior at once – who sealed his soul inside of a gemstone since the time before Arlathan's fall?" I asked, and the two looked at me with wide eyes.

"I…wow…" Selina murmured, looking at the blades. "These things are ancient…"

"And yet they show no sign of age," Aedan added, drawing his rapier and turning it over, the blue runes glowing as the metal hummed faintly.

"Your blade is Fragarach," I said, placing my hand very lightly along the flat of the blade. "It is part of a trio of blades – the saber Claíomh Solais, and the longsword Caladbolg."

"So…what happens now that all three are together?" Aedan asked. There was a faint click from the locking mechanism as Alistair finished entering the code, and it whirled in a circle, making louder clicking sounds. The pair of shelves on the wall shuddered and slid open to reveal a hidden passageway that led deep underground.

"No idea," I replied simply, and Selina chuckled.

"Oh, I was hoping for some sort of prophecy or legend," the mage said, and I smirked.

"If there is one, the spirit didn't say – most of his memory was gone by the time we found him, and he was almost mad from isolation," I admitted. We walked through the dark hall and down ancient stone steps, Selina lighting the way with a glowing were-light until we found a lantern by the bottom of the stairs.

"It would have been nice if they had put one of these at the top of the stairs. Just saying," Alistair remarked, thanking Selina when she lit a lantern for him. We each took either a lantern or one of the candles that were lying about, exploring the large storeroom. It was dusty, but some areas looked as if they had been disturbed more recently. _Was Riordan down here before he was captured?_ I wondered, _or maybe some of the other Grey Wardens, before Ostagar._

I found a large chest in the corner of the room, and I knelt in front of it, opening it and finding a beautiful shield. It was masterfully crafted – made of silverite – bearing the blue and white herald of a griffon, rampant, with its wings spread out behind it. There was a letter in the bottom of the box, and I unfolded it, holding the candle close by so that I could read.

I grinned as I folded the note away – this shield had been a gift to Duncan on becoming the Warden-Commander of Ferelden. He was a rogue, though, so I doubted that this shield had ever seen battle. "Alistair, come here!" I called, and he came over quickly, looking around and spotting me kneeling next to the chest. I had closed it, getting to my feet and stepping back. "Open it," I prompted, and he looked at me suspiciously.

"…why?" he asked, narrowing his eyes as he saw the grin on my face. "Something's going to jump out at me, isn't it?" he questioned, and I rolled my eyes.

"Oh just open the chest," I insisted. "It's a _nice_ surprise," I added, and he relaxed slightly. He opened the chest, staring down at the shield with big eyes. "And read the letter," I said, and he found the letter, his eyes moving quickly over the words.

"This…this shield. It's Duncan's…" he breathed, gently putting the letter down. I took the lantern from his hand as he picked up the shield, looking it over as his eyes misted up.

"You said you wanted something to remember him by," I said gently, and Alistair nodded slowly, his fingers tightening around the edge of the shield.

"I did. I really did. I just never expected…" he trailed off, a sad smile spreading across his lips, and he looked back at me with shining eyes. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "Truly, I had no idea his shield wasn't with him. This is perfect," he breathed, sliding the shield's longest strap over his shoulder as he blinked away the moisture in his eyes. "I don't know how to express my gratitude. This means a great deal to me."

"For you? Anything," I smiled, and he beamed from ear to ear.

"I…I don't know what to say. I'll treasure this. Thank you," he said again, leaning over and kissing me lightly on the cheek.

oooo

Zevran found me the next day in the library as I browsed the shelves, and I hopped down from the stepladder, greeting him. He seemed less tense as of late – it was as if a weight had been taken off his shoulders. I noticed that his earring was missing, but didn't mention anything; I recalled overhearing his and Neria's conversation after confronting the Crows, and assumed that the earring had found a new owner.

"Hello Zev," I said, "did you need something?"

He smiled slightly, his eyes warm as he looked at me. "I did not thank you," he began. "It occurs to me now that you have freed me from the Crows, and yet I did not think to thank you for it," he added. "No matter why you did it, still it was done, and I the benefactor. So…thank you," he bowed his head to me, and I smiled back, taking his hands in mine.

"We're friends, Zev – we watch out for each other," I replied, and he chuckled at my words.

"You say that so quickly, and yet it is an odd thing for me to hear," he admitted. "In the Crows, we do not have 'friends', and yet here you are, and I cannot help but consider you such."

"I consider you a friend, as well," I said. His eyes became serious, and he folded his hands over mine as he looked at me.

"Then allow me to say this. What we are doing here – stopping the Blight; I cannot think of anything I have ever done which is so worthy," he began. "I intend to see this through to the end with you," he vowed. "After all…someone must take responsibility for preventing your untimely death. A suitable task for a friend, yes?" he added with a chuckle, and I smiled.

"You never know what's going to happen," I teased, and he grinned.

"If someone had said to me just a year ago, 'Zevran, my lad, you're going to fail against your most important mark and it will be the smartest thing you've ever done', I would have slit his throat. So, yes, I'm right with you on the 'never know what's going to happen' bit," he replied. "I believe I founded the club."

oooo

The remaining days before the Landsmeet flew by; each day, Alistair and I went to Eamon's office, planning out what we should say at the Landsmeet. "Loghain seems to see Adeline as the more direct threat," Eamon said, "which will keep his attention from Alistair. I suggest you focus on the Blight to gain the sympathies of the nobles you have not won support from yet; directly attacking Loghain from the start of the Landsmeet will get us nowhere."

Alistair and I were also fitted with new armor – Wade had managed to finish our orders the day before the Landsmeet. Alistair was wearing a set of medium dragon-scale armor, and my own set was made of lighter drake-skin; we had brought the materials back from Haven with us, and Wade had nearly fainted with excitement at the prospect of working with the exotic resources.

Alistair's armor had been polished until it shone faintly, the golden material of the sleeves not blindingly bright like Cailan's plate armor. The breastplate was covered with a white cloth vest that had elegant gold designs along the front, the pauldrons padded with leather, with chainmail sleeves. The set included black, metal-backed gloves up to his elbows, and steel-toed boots that went over his knees. The look was completed with a short, half-cape in gold that hung over his right shoulder, opposite Duncan's shield, made of flame-resistant dragon wing membrane – that, combined with the enchanted ring I had gotten him, would make Alistair almost fireproof in battle.

My armor was a coat of leathery drake-skin; the first time I had seen it, I almost asked what it was – I had no idea that armor could be both beautiful _and_ functional. The color was dark navy, almost black – there were thick, black leggings, and a padded drake-skin overcoat that fell down to my knees, with slits up the sides to my hips so that my movement wouldn't be impaired. The front of the armor was covered with a layer of silver chain-mail from my collarbone to my pelvis, the center decorated with a pair of griffons side-by-side, a wing spread out to the right and left. Black, padded gloves stretched up to my elbows, and I had allowed Wade to improve my mother's boots with drake-skin.

"Now is better armor really so bad?" Alistair teased as he looked me over. I held my arms out and spun in a small circle, showing off the front and back.

"Maybe not," I replied with a smirk. "Now come on – I want to go test this out," I added, thanking Wade and Herren before taking Alistair's hand, leading him back towards Eamon's estate so we could spar.

"Alright, alright," Alistair chuckled as we trotted through the Market District, "but let's not get bruised up too much – the Landsmeet's tomorrow," he reminded me, and I smirked as we reached the courtyard, drawing my daggers, favoring them over my saber for now.

"I'll try to go easy on you, then, Chantry Boy," I winked, and Alistair grinned.

"Remember those words when your backside hits the ground, kitten," he replied, and we leapt at one another, meeting in a clash of metal and sparks.

oooo

Eamon left for the Landsmeet an hour early – he was setting his men in place inside the Royal Palace, should Loghain try anything. Alistair was fidgeting nervously as he tried to buckle on his armor, and I smiled slightly, placing my hands gently on either side of his face. "Don't worry – everything will work out," I assured him, and he let out a long sigh.

"Right. Now that we're entering a building full of Loghain's personal guard, everything will be fine," he replied, and I chuckled, kissing him.

"That's the spirit," I teased, helping him with the rest of his armor. Our company would remain at the estate, besides Aedan – he wanted to be present for the Landsmeet in his father's stead, to publicly speak out against the Howes. We invited Riordan as well, but he said that he had urgent business to attend to at the moment, and would join us if he could.

Alistair and I marched through the streets of Denerim side by side, escorted by Arl Eamon's estate guards. Two men in front carried banners with the Theirin and Grey Warden crests, causing a stir in the crowded streets as we passed through, heading towards the Royal Palace. Despite his initial unease, Alistair looked calm as we walked – almost relaxed – and I smiled faintly at how quickly he could adjust to his situation.

The guards at the palace gates almost didn't open them for us – I had to Charm the guard captain to let us through peacefully. We walked into the Royal Palace, entering a grand hall before the Landsmeet Chamber, only to be stopped again by none other than Ser Cauthrien. The woman looked at us with disdain as we approached, and immediately drew her blade, six guards at her back blocking the Landsmeet doors.

"Warden, I am not surprised it has come to this," she remarked, looking down her nose at me, her eyes dark. "And Alistair. If you were even _remotely_ worthy of being called Maric's son, you would already _be_ in the Landsmeet, now wouldn't you?" she added scathingly, and I gritted my teeth – it took all my self-control not to chop her head off right then and there. "You have torn Ferelden apart to oppose the very man who ensured you were born into freedom," she continued. "But do not think you will get past me to desecrate the Landsmeet itself. The nobles of Ferelden will confirm my lord as regent, and we can finally put this–"

"Oh shut the _fuck_ up Cauthrien," I barked, cutting her off – I couldn't take her high-and-mighty act any longer. "I am _sick_ of hearing you spewing this self-righteous _garbage_. If you _dare_ stand in my way, I will make sure you rue the day you _ever_ thought to serve Loghain," I snarled, drawing my saber and advancing on her. "You are a _fool_ if you can't see the monster he has become."

Cauthrien looked shocked, and she took a shaky step back at the malice in my voice. "I have had…so many doubts of late," she admitted softly, her earlier posturing now gone. "Loghain is a great man, but his hatred of Orlais has driven him to madness. He has done terrible things, I know it, but I owe him everything. I cannot betray him, do not ask me to!" she cried, and I lowered my blade as I saw the desperation in her eyes.

"Then let me stop him. You know it's the only way," I said, my voice a little gentler.

"I never thought duty would taste so bitter," Cauthrien sighed ruefully. "Stop him, Warden. Stop him from betraying everything he once loved," she said, looking back at me. "Please…show mercy. Without Loghain, there would be no Ferelden to defend," she pleaded, stepping aside and motioning for her men to do the same.

Alistair and I slipped into the Landsmeet Chamber as quietly as we could, and I watched as he disappeared into the crowd, appearing a few minutes later behind Eamon in the Arl's raised balcony, nodding in silent greeting. I stood among the crowd of assembled nobles, looking towards the other balconies and spotting the nobles who had promised their support. Aedan was nowhere to be seen among the crowd below, but glancing back up, I spotted him up in the balcony with Eamon, standing in the shadows with a heavy grey cloak over his shoulders.

Eamon stepped towards the front of his balcony, Alistair moving to stand slightly behind him as they looked over the Landsmeet. Eamon cleared his throat, addressing the crowd below, making grand gestures as he spoke. "My lords and ladies of the Landsmeet, Teyrn Loghain would have us give up our freedoms, our traditions, out of fear! _He_ placed us on this path, yet we should place our destiny in his hands? Must we sacrifice everything good about our nation to save it?" he argued, and the nobles looked up at him intently. I could hear a large amount of angry muttering from those assembled, but above that rose a loud, sharp sound; slow, mocking applause.

Loghain watched the Arl of Redcliffe, thoroughly unimpressed with his words as he clapped mockingly. "A fine performance, Eamon, but no one here is taken in by it," he scoffed, looking at Eamon with contempt. "You would attempt to put a puppet on the throne and every soul here knows it. The better question is, 'Who will pull the strings?'," the regent asked, looking up at Alistair, who was watching him with intense, controlled hatred.

I moved from my position by the door, slowly making my way past the assembled nobles; those who recognized me began murmuring in surprise, and the crowd parted as I walked to the center of the room, standing across from Loghain in a pool of sunlight, so that my hair blazed around my face and shoulders like fire. He glanced over at the noise, his eyes hardening as he saw me, gesturing and drawing the rest of the room's attention to me.

"Ah! And here we have the puppeteer," he remarked scornfully, and I raised my chin challengingly, my eyes cool as I remained icy calm.

"Lords and Ladies, I present Adeline Tabris, a Grey Warden, and acting Warden-Commander of Ferelden," Arl Eamon said, and murmurs went through chamber. Loghain scoffed, shaking his head and moving forward, stalking around me in a slow circle.

"Tell us, Warden – how _will_ the Orlesians take our nation from us?" his eyes were dark and predatory as he moved, and I could feel the gaze of every person in the room on my back. I kept my breathing slow and controlled – I wouldn't let anxiety dull my wits. "Will they deign to send their troops, or simply issue their commands through this would-be prince?" the regent asked, indicating Alistair as he stood in the balcony next to Eamon. "How much Fereldan blood does Orlesian gold buy these days?" he demanded, his eyes narrowed.

"The Blight is the threat here, not Orlais," I remarked, drawing a murmur of agreement from the assembled nobility.

"There are enough refugees in my bannorn now to make that abundantly clear," Bann Alfstanna chimed in, placing her hands on the balcony and looking down at Loghain.

"The south is fallen, Loghain! Will you let darkspawn take the whole country for fear of Orlais?" Arl Wulff demanded, slamming his fist against the balcony.

"The Blight is indeed real, Wulff," Loghain acknowledged, "but do we need Grey Wardens to fight it?" he asked. "They claim that they alone can end the Blight, yet they failed spectacularly against the darkspawn at Ostagar, and they ask to bring with them four legions of chevaliers," he continued, his voice rising in anger at the mention of the Orlesian knights. "And once we open our borders to the chevaliers, can we really expect them to simply return from whence they came?"

He was trying to turn the focus towards Orlais, instead of the Blight, and I could hear murmurs of assent from the crowd. _Change the subject…_ I thought, raising my chin as I turned to address the regent. "Funny that you should mention gold buying Fereldan blood, while you yourself sell Fereldan citizens into slavery to fund your war," I accused, and shouts of confusion and outrage rumbled through the chamber.

"What's this? There is no slavery in Ferelden. Explain yourself," demanded Bann Sighard, his eyes widening as I produced the slaver documents, passing them to a page, who ran to the balcony stairs and distributed them to the nobles. Gasps of outrage echoed through the chamber as the nobles saw the seal of Gawren on the documents.

"There is no saving the Alienage," Loghain scoffed, trying to brush off my words. "Damage from the riots has yet to be repaired. There are bodies still rotting in their homes. It is not a place I would send my worst enemy. There is no chance of holding it if the Blight comes here," he argued, and I felt my eyes narrow in anger. "Despite what you may think, Warden, I have done my duty. Whatever my regrets may be for the Elves, I have done what was needed for the good of Ferelden."

"And did you let the usurper Howe – who slaughtered the Couslands in their own home – torture citizens for the 'good of Ferelden' as well?" I demanded, and another roar of outrage echoed through the chamber at my words.

"Howe took my only son! The things done to him…some are beyond any healer's skill," Bann Sighard exclaimed, glaring at Loghain.

"Howe was a grown man responsible for his own actions. He will answer to the Maker for his crimes, as must we all," Loghain replied.

"And yet you named him Teyrn of Highever, after what he had done to the Couslands?" I countered, and Loghain looked at me with disdain.

"The Couslands were taken by a band of outlaws, shortly after their main forces left. Bryce's death is unfortunate, but–"

"Do not insult my father, Loghain – you have no right to speak his name," Aedan barked, stepping forward on the balcony and sweeping off the cloak; he was wearing finely crafted leather armor in blue and white – the Cousland colors – with the curved laurel crest emblazoned on the chest, and the right shoulder. Startled gasps rustled across the room as the nobles recognized him. "Rendon Howe set his army upon Highever castle while our forces marched towards Ostagar – I am one of the few to survive his treachery, and I demand justice."

Loghain glowered up at Aedan, shaking his head. "And Howe will answer for his crimes, as will the Grey Wardens," he nearly snarled, returning his gaze to me.

"Answer for our crimes?" I echoed. "So will you answer to the crime of sending an apostate to poison Eamon?" I asked. _Sorry Jowan,_ I thought – he would have to change his name either way, since the Templars already knew him.

"I assure you, Warden, if I were going to send someone, it would be my own soldiers. I would not trust to the discretion of an apostate," Loghain scoffed, shaking his head. Bann Alfstanna leaned over her balcony, raising an eyebrow at the regent's denial.

"Indeed? My brother tells a very different tale," the woman countered. "He says you snatched a blood mage from the Chantry's justice. Coincidence?" she asked, glancing towards the Grand Cleric, who narrowed her eyes at Loghain.

"Do not think the Chantry will overlook this, Teyrn Loghain. Interference in a Templar's sacred duties is an offense against the Maker," the old woman remarked.

"Whatever I have done, I will answer for later. At the moment, however, I wish to know what this Warden has done with my daughter," the regent said, turning attention back to me.

"What have _I_ done?" I asked, crossing my arms. "I've _protected_ her from you."

"You took my daughter – our queen – by force, killing her guards in the process" Loghain accused. "What arts have you employed to keep her? Does she even still live?"

"I believe I can speak for myself." The crowd parted with small, startled exclamations as Anora stepped regally forth, her head held high. "Lords and ladies of Ferelden, hear me," she called, addressing the Landsmeet. "My father is no longer the man you know. This man is not the hero of River Dane. This man turned his troops aside and refused to protect your king as he fought bravely against the darkspawn. This man seized Cailan's throne before his body was cold and locked me away so I could not reveal his treachery. I would have already been killed, if not for this Grey Warden," Anora said imperiously, indicating me, and I bowed my head slightly.

Loghain looked outraged at first, but calmed his anger quickly, looking at his daughter almost pityingly. "So the Warden's influence has poisoned even your mind, Anora?" the man asked, shaking his head. "I wanted to protect you from this," he murmured, turning his attention back to the gathered nobles. "My lords and ladies, our land has been threatened before. It's been invaded, and lost, and won times beyond counting. We Fereldans have proven that we will never truly be conquered so long as we are united. We must not let ourselves be divided now. Stand with me, and we shall defeat even the Blight itself," he said, closing the debate and demanding a vote.

"South Reach stands with the Grey Wardens," Arl Bryland voted.

"Waking Sea stands with the Grey Wardens!" Bann Alfstanna cried.

"Dragon's Peak supports the Wardens!" Bann Sighard called.

"The Western Hills throw their lot in with the Wardens. Maker help us," Arl Wulff said.

"The rightful heir of Highever supports the Wardens!" Aedan shouted, a broad grin on his face as I smiled at him.

"I stand by Loghain! We've no hope of victory otherwise," Bann Ceorlic called.

"I stand with the Warden! The Blight is coming; we need the Grey Wardens!" another noble called, and the Landsmeet erupted in cheers and chants of 'Grey Wardens'.

I turned to face Loghain, whose eyes had hardened with fury as he glared at the assembled nobility. "The Landsmeet is against you, Loghain. Step down gracefully, and answer for what you've done," I said, and he lost it.

"Traitors!" he roared, silencing the crowd. "Which of you stood against the Orlesian emperor when his troops flattened your fields and raped your wives?" he demanded, turning towards Eamon and pointing an accusatory finger at the man. "You fought with us once, Eamon. You cared about this land once. Before you got too old and fat and content to even see what you risk," Loghain spat, turning his glare on the other nobles. "None of you deserve a say in what happens here! None of you have spilled blood for this land the way I have! How dare you judge me!" he roared, raising an arm.

Soldiers poured into the hall from side chambers, armor flashing in the sunlight as they drew their swords and raised their crossbows. The personal guards of the assembled nobles were outmatched – most had only brought one or two – and the people began to panic. Arl Eamon let out a piercing whistle, and his own men came in through the Landsmeet Chamber's main doors, forming a defensive barrier around the nobles on the ground floor, raising their shields in anticipation of crossbow fire.

The room fell deadly silent as Loghain stood a few feet from me, and I looked at him levelly, my voice calm as I spoke. "Call off your men and we'll settle this honorably," I offered. "Attacking the nobility will do more harm than good – there really _will_ be a civil war if they die," I added, indicating the assembled nobles. Loghain narrowed his eyes but lowered his hand, making his men stand down.

"Then let us end this," he agreed. "I suppose we both knew it would come to this. When we first met at Ostagar, I would never have thought so," he admitted, sounding almost lucid. "But Ostagar seems like it happened in another lifetime, to someone else," Loghain sighed. "A man is made by the quality of his enemies – Maric told me that once," he said. "I wonder if it's more a compliment to you or me," he mused. "Enough. Let the Landsmeet declare the terms of the duel."

Bann Alfstanna leaned over her balcony, calling for attention. "It shall be fought according to tradition; a test of arms in single combat until one party yields," she called. "And we who are assembled will abide by the outcome."

Loghain glanced back at me, drawing his sword and buckling on his shield. "Will you face me yourself, or have you a champion?" he asked. Before I could speak, I heard the gentle clicking of armored boots on the stone floor, and Alistair was at my side.

"I will face you," Alistair answered coolly, and I bowed my head, taking a few steps back so that they had room.

"Then let us test the mettle of our would-be king. Prepare yourself," Loghain said, watching as Alistair buckled on the Grey Warden shield and drew his blade, the silver and blue sword making the faintest humming sound as it was unsheathed. Loghain narrowed his eyes at the longsword – this was Maric's old blade.

I watched as the two circled slowly, eyes moving quickly over their opponent as they sought a weakness. Loghain was more experienced, but Alistair had been in combat far more recently, and was much lighter on his feet – Loghain's plate armor was like a turtle's shell, and I almost smiled as I thought of Sten's words; it was a strength that would become a weakness.

They met in a clash of steel and sparks, battering their blades against one another as they lashed out with their shields. Alistair was pushed back a bit after the initial attack, falling into a defensive stance as Loghain worried at him with his sword; he was trying to wear the older man out, and, blinded by his anger, the regent was walking into a trap.

The fight lasted for more than ten minutes, with both opponents seeming evenly matched. They panted for breath, battered and bruised, and Loghain braced himself for a final assault as he saw Alistair's shield-arm go limp. He ran at the Grey Warden with a snarl on his lips, his eyes widening in horror as Alistair grinned. He stepped back from Loghain's charge and rammed into the regent as he passed by like a crazed bull, throwing the man to the ground and stepping on his breastplate, holding Caladbolg to Loghain's throat.

"Do you yield?" Alistair demanded, using his 'king' voice, and Loghain let out a sigh.

"So, there is some of Maric in you after all. Good," the regent breathed, and Alistair gritted his teeth, narrowing his eyes.

"Forget Maric. This is for Duncan," Alistair said, raising his blade to execute Loghain.

The door to the Landsmeet Chamber suddenly burst open, and Alistair paused, turning his head. We watched as Riordan ran into the room, holding his hand up to wait.

"Wait! There is another option!" the senior Warden cried, running to our sides. I plucked Loghain's blade off the floor as Alistair took his foot off the man's chest, and the regent slowly sat up, staggering to his feet. Arl Eamon motioned for a few of his guards to stand on either side of the man, should he try to escape. "The Teyrn is a warrior and general of renown. Let him be of use. Let him go through the Joining," Riordan suggested, and I jumped, staring at him incredulously.

Alistair wasn't surprised, though; he was _furious_. "You want to make him a Warden?" he cried, glaring at Riordan. " _Why?_ "

"There are _three_ of us in all of Ferelden," Riordan answered. "And there are…compelling reasons to have as many Wardens on hand as possible to deal with the archdemon," he added. "The Joining itself is often fatal, is it not? If he survives, you gain a general. If not, you have your revenge. Doesn't that satisfy you?" the man argued.

"Absolutely not!" Alistair exclaimed. "Riordan, this man abandoned our brothers and then blamed us for the deed! He hunted us down like _animals_. He _tortured_ you! How can we simply _forget_ that?" he nearly shouted, and I nodded, crossing my arms.

"He may be a great warrior and strategist, but he left us to be slaughtered at Ostagar. Loghain needs to pay for his crimes," I chimed in. "And the Joining is an honor; you insult us, Riordan, offering this traitor a place among us," I added, my eyes cold as I glared at the Grey Warden.

"You can't do this!" Anora shrieked, running towards us through the crowd. "My father may have been wrong, but he is still a hero to the people."

"Anora, hush. It's over," Loghain sighed, bowing his head with acceptance.

"Stop treating me like a child. This is serious," the woman huffed, and Loghain looked at her, smiling sadly at his daughter.

"Daughters never grow up, Anora. They remain six years old with pigtails and skinned knees forever," he murmured, and Anora covered her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Father…" she whispered, blinking quickly as the tears ran down her cheeks.

Loghain turned to face me, his eyes drained of anger – they held only calm acceptance of his fate. "Just make it quick, Warden. I can face the Maker, knowing that Ferelden is in your hands."

I looked up at Alistair, placing a hand lightly on his arm. "Alistair, you should be the one to do this," I murmured, and he nodded, stepping forth and sheathing Caladbolg, taking a sword from one of the guards – he wouldn't do Loghain the honor of killing him with Maric's blade.

"I will. I owe that to Duncan," he whispered, raising the blade as Loghain closed his eyes, lowering his head. With a single sweep of a blade, the Teyrn of Gwaren was dead. The room was silent, and a few of the nobles took of their cloaks, handing them to the guards to spread over Loghain's body as Eamon came down from his balcony, calling the Landsmeet to attention once more.

"So it is decided. Alistair will take his father's throne," Eamon said, and Alistair stood by his side, bowing his head slightly.

"I accept this decision. I will be king, if the Landsmeet will have me," he sighed.

"Anora, the Landsmeet has decided against you. You must now swear fealty to our king, and relinquish all claim to the throne for yourself and your heirs," Eamon continued, and Anora scoffed, tossing her head in disdain.

"If you think I will swear that oath, Eamon, you know nothing of me," the woman replied.

"You'll have to do something about her, Alistair. She's never going to concede," I whispered, and he nodded slightly.

"I suppose that's true," he remarked, placing a hand on his chin in thought.

"We cannot leave Ferelden in a state of civil war. We must have unity," Eamon said. "If she will not swear fealty to you, Alistair, and renounce her claim to the throne, she is a threat to us all," he added, and Alistair motioned for a few guards to join us.

"Put her in the tower for now. If I fall against the Blight, then she can have her throne," Alistair ordered. "If not…then we'll see."

"You would give me a chance for the throne after all this?" Anora asked, perplexed, and Alistair narrowed his eyes at her.

"I said if I _fall_ , Anora," he reminded her. "If I fall, the throne falls to you. I won't kill you while there's a chance that can happen. _Somebody_ has to treat this Blight seriously."

"That is uncharacteristically wise of you," the woman remarked scathingly, and I gritted my teeth. _Maker I want to punch that smug face of hers_ …

"Yes, well, don't let it get around. I have a reputation," Alistair replied.

"Very well, then. Guards, take her away," Eamon said, and the guards surrounded Anora, marching away. "Your Highness, would you address the Landsmeet?" he added, facing Alistair, who jumped at the new title.

"Oh…that would be me," Alistair murmured, stepping forward and clearing his throat. "Right, um…I never knew him, but from all I've heard of my father, what defined him was his commitment to protecting this land," he began. "I…might have a long way to go before I am worthy of your respect, but I will defend Ferelden with everything I have – this, I swear," Alistair said, bowing his head. The assembled nobles cheered and applauded the new king, and I smiled slightly.

Alistair glanced at me, and I nodded towards Aedan, who had joined us on the floor. "But before we march, there are matters that must be attended to," he added, holding up a hand for quiet. "Aedan Cousland," Alistair addressed the man, and Aedan stepped forward, "I restore to you the Teyrnir of Highever, which was wrongly taken from your family by Rendon Howe. I cannot undo his crimes, but know that you have my sympathies. I hereby name you Teyrn of Highever."

Aedan knelt before the king and drew his blade, holding the rapier out to him. "I thank you, my king, and for this, I swear fealty to you," the man said. Alistair took the blade and gently tapped each of Aedan's shoulders with the flat, presenting it back to him.

"Then rise, Teyrn Cousland, and know that you will always be welcome in Denerim," Alistair said regally, and a cheer sounded around the hall. "I also hereby strip the Howes of their titles and lands – the Arling of Amaranthine will now be the headquarters of the Grey Wardens, under the custody of the Teyrn of Highever until further notice," he added, and Aedan nodded.

"The archers of the Waking Sea promise their aid when you take back your lands, Teyrn Cousland," Bann Alfstanna called, and Aedan smiled up at her, dipping his head in thanks.

"I also abolish any claims that Loghain and his allies have made against the Grey Wardens, and raise the edict banning them from Fereldan," Alistair continued, turning towards Riordan. "Our brothers and sisters in Orlais might not reach us in time to face the archdemon, but we will need their aid in the battles to come," he said, and Riordan bowed.

"I will send a message immediately, Your Highness," the Grey Warden replied.

Alistair then turned to me, a gentle smile on his face. "And you, Adeline Tabris," he said, and I bit back a smile, trying to stay serious. "For your efforts against the Blight, I name you Warden-Commander of Ferelden – of that title, you are more than worthy." I bowed my head, drawing my blade and presenting it. "Adeline, what are you doing?" Alistair whispered hurriedly, his eyes widening with surprise, and I simply smiled up at him.

"Alistair Theirin," I began, "I pledge my loyalty to you – you have proven yourself worthy as a Grey Warden, and as a friend. I would stand by your side, should you brave the Black City itself," I vowed, bowing my head.

Alistair gingerly took the saber from my hands, tapping my shoulders lightly before presenting the blade back to me. "Then rise, Warden-Commander Tabris, and know that what you have done for Ferelden will never be forgotten," he said, taking my hand and helping me to my feet. He turned to face the Landsmeet once more. "Until the day of my coronation, I name Arl Eamon as regent," he added, glancing towards Eamon, who bowed his head. "Prepare your men to march," Alistair said, turning back to the other nobles. "It's going to take all of Ferelden's strength to survive this Blight. But we _will_ face it, and we _will_ defeat it."

A deafening roar made the walls and floor of the chamber tremble, and I grinned up at Alistair, taking his hand as we stood side by side. "One step closer," I breathed, my body quivering with excitement, amplified by the cheers of the nobility.

Our group was moved out of Arl Eamon's estate, and we spent the night in the Royal palace – we would return to Redcliffe the next day. Arl Eamon would stay in Denerim as regent, and fortify the city, should the Darkspawn change their course. Aedan and Selina headed to Highever immediately with Bann Alfstanna and her guards, sending a missive to her Bannorn to march on Highever and take the castle from any of Howe's remaining men.

Soldiers that were still loyal to Loghain were rounded up, and offered a choice – swear fealty to the king of Ferelden, or be exiled. Ser Cauthrien and her knights conceded – much to my surprise – and vowed to protect Denerim to their last breath; they would remain behind with Eamon, the royal guard, and the forces of Dragon's Peak.

The city was alive with the sound of preparation – Denerim was not to be left undefended while the army marched towards Redcliffe, where we predicted the darkspawn would strike first. The streets echoed with the sounds of hammers as smiths worked at a doubled pace, and the city walls were shored up and inspected for any weaknesses.

oooo

I scaled the palace wall, opening the window quietly and sliding onto the sill, sitting with my back pressed lightly against the frame, watching Alistair in silence. He didn't seem to notice me at all; he was sitting at the small desk by the opposite wall, eyes closed as he ran a hand through his hair. He seemed tense – deep in thought – and I smiled gently at him as he let out a long, troubled sigh.

"You know, Your Majesty," I began, and he jumped, turning slightly and spotting me, "you really should lock your windows tighter. All sorts of _nasty_ things can get in; assassins, thieves…your paramour," I teased, sliding my legs into the room but remaining on the sill.

"How did you…?" Alistair trailed off, standing and walking over to me.

"You're really going to ask the rogue how she got onto the third story of the Royal Palace?" I teased, and he rolled his eyes.

"But what about the guards? Isn't it dangerous to be doing suspicious things like climbing up the palace walls?" he asked.

"There are guards walking up the palace walls?" I asked with a smirk.

"Oh you know what I mean," he snorted. "And why didn't you just come in through the door?" Alistair asked, and I shrugged, sliding off the windowsill and walking over to him, tapping him lightly on the chest with my index finger.

"You, ser, have a reputation to uphold now. You can't be seen with a random Elf woman walking into your room. We need to be more…discreet with our rendezvous," I replied, and Alistair let out a sigh, seeming troubled. "…what's wrong, love?" I asked gently as he turned, walking back to the desk and leaning heavily against it, closing his eyes.

"We…need to talk," he murmured, running a hand over his forehead. "I'm not going to question why you made me king. I even think I'm starting to come around on the idea, anyhow…it could be an interesting future for me," he admitted, and I let out a small sigh. _Oh good, I thought he was still anxious about that,_ I thought, listening as he continued. "But…being king… That raises some questions about us. About you and me," he said, turning to face me.

"What…sorts of questions?" I asked, not really liking where this was going.

"First, there's the fact that both you and I are Grey Wardens. It's not just a question of obligation, but of blood. You know that Grey Wardens don't usually live to become old, right?" he asked, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," I replied, and he crossed his arms,

"As king, I'll be required to have a child. Even more so because my death is assured. That's assuming that someone with the taint can or even _should_ have a child," he continued.

"I…still don't see how that affects us," I said, although truly…I supposed that I did. I was just stalling.

"I will need to find a wife, one who can bear a child. Who will live to raise it. I don't relish it, but…I will have a duty as the king," he said, pain in his voice as he glanced back at me. "I love you. More than I ever thought possible, but…I have to face what this means. I can't run away from it anymore," he sighed, looking at me sadly.

I was quiet for a long time, looking up at him and placing a hand on his cheek, running my thumb over his stubbled jaw. "Alistair, being a king isn't a punishment," I whispered. "No one can force you to do anything you don't want," I murmured, my voice gentle, and Alistair's eyes widened for a moment. He seemed to be thinking about it, though, as he walked to the window, placing his hands on the sill.

"You mean…marry who I want? Carry on with whomever I want?" he murmured. "You don't think that would be very unfair? To my wife as well as you?" he asked, glancing back at me as I joined him by the window.

"You are your own man, Alistair. Maybe you should do what pleases _you_ , for once," I argued, and Alistair looked at me for a long time, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You know what? You're right. Damn them all, anyhow. If they want to make me king, then…then I'll be king. And I'll do exactly what I _want_ to do," he said firmly, and I smiled. "I feel like such an idiot for bringing this up, now. Can you ever forgive me?" Alistair asked, his eyes apologetic, and I nodded, cupping his face in my hands and kissing him.

"Of course I can. Always," I murmured, and he sighed, pressing his forehead against mine as he held me.

"Good. Then let's forget about it," he smiled. "Arl Eamon has sent a runner to Redcliffe, asking Bann Teagan to prepare the soldiers. He received word the other day – one of our Dalish runners; the Elf said that our armies are gathering there, and are almost ready to march. As soon as we're ready, we should head to Redcliffe ourselves. The Blight awaits, right?" he added, and I nodded.

"Well…we're not heading out until tomorrow," I began, running a finger over Alistair's collarbone, "and you've been rather stressed the past few days." His eyes flashed at my words, a slow smile spreading over his lips as he wrapped his arms more tightly around me.

"Oh? And what might you suggest we do to remedy that, my dear?" he asked teasingly, sweeping me off my feet as I laughed and carrying me to the bed.

"Hmm…well, I suppose we could test how soft this mattress is," I suggested as he set me down. I sank into the soft sheets, imagining that I was lying on a cloud. "…say," I added, glancing around the room, "why aren't you staying in Cailan's room?" At this Alistair laughed, shaking his head, and I raised an eyebrow. "Is his taste in décor _that_ bad?" I asked.

"Oh, you don't even want to know. It looks like someone chewed up an Orlesian ballroom and spit it back up all over the place. Thank the _Maker_ the steward asked if I wanted it redone," Alistair described, and I grinned, taking off my boots, gloves and armored overcoat as he did the same.

"Wow. I can't imagine Anora ever sleeping in there. Or _seeing_ it, even," I remarked, and Alistair rolled his eyes.

"And everyone _wonders_ why there aren't any royal children running about," he replied sarcastically, unbuckling his breastplate and setting it down nearby, taking off his golden hauberk and folding it neatly before setting it down as well. "Although from the gossip I've heard, Cailan _did_ entertain…guests of a certain persuasion, from time to time," he added, and I laughed.

"Oh dear. I'm almost afraid to think," I shook my head, sliding off my pants and shirt as he did the same. He chuckled softly, joining me on the bed and wrapping his arms around me, nuzzling my cheek affectionately as he plucked at my corset strings. I rolled over as he slipped the garment from me, blowing out the candle and turning back to face him.

"So…" Alistair began softly, his voice gentle as he looked at me, "can we…pretend something? For a moment?" he asked, and I raised an eyebrow. "Pretend that…you and me, we're…I don't know, just, two people in love," he said, placing a hand on my cheek.

"Hmm…I'll try my best," I teased, and he kissed me.

"Cute," he smiled. "So. Adeline Tabris, will you marry me?" he asked, and my heart leapt into my throat. I stared at him with wide eyes, and he sat up slowly, worried by my shocked silence. "I know it might…be a long time before it's possible… If it's even possible…but… I want you to be my wife, nobility be damned."

I sat up next to him, placing a hand on my cheek and pinching it. He looked at me oddly as I cringed. "Just…making sure I'm not dreaming," I said, and he smirked. He gently brushed the back of his hand over my cheek, tucking some loose hair over my ear.

"You dream about me?" he asked teasingly, wrapping his arms around me, and I chuckled.

"Well, I need _someone_ to chase away the archdemon while I sleep," I replied, kissing him. "And…yes. To both questions," I added, and a broad grin spread across his face. He buried his nose in my hair as he embraced me, and I shut my eyes, hugging him back.

"It might take some time to convince the other nobles," Alistair began, "but as king, _technically_ I could raise your status to nobility." I chuckled at his reasoning, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Whatever you wish, ma vhenan," I replied, and he smiled.

"Now…where were we?" Alistair asked, a huskiness entering his voice as he ran a hand through my hair. I leaned forward and nuzzled his cheek, nibbling at his ear teasingly.

"I believe that's your call, love," I sighed.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	53. Chapter 53: Rising Storm

Chapter 53

Rising Storm

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[Bloomingtide – early summer]

"Maker's breath, what's _happened_ here!?" Leliana gasped as she stood up on the seat, staring at the great columns of smoke rising into the air. I glanced at Alistair in panic – there were darkspawn everywhere, heading towards us as we neared Redcliffe.

"Darkspawn incoming! Everyone get into positions!" I called, reining in Dancia and standing on the seat, pulling a pair of fire grenades from my hip pouch and holding them ready. Neria and Leliana nocked arrows and Katja loaded her crossbow, running to higher ground with Jowan, Wynne and Morrigan. Zevran and I stood on opposite ends of the wagon, while Olan, Sten, Alistair and Oghren took the four corners. I quickly unhitched Dancia, not wanting her to be trapped, and Zevran scattered caltrops across the paths before and behind us.

Everything was deathly quiet in the narrow pass – my heart throbbed in my ears as my eyes darted back and forth along the path, waiting. I sensed magic up ahead, and Alistair's head whipped around as he felt it as well. "Emissary!" he warned, keeping his hands ready to smite it once it got into range.

"On it!" I heard Katja shout, and just as the darkspawn appeared, it fell with a crossbow bolt in its eye, dying with a horrible shriek. From that noise erupted dozens of feral roars as darkspawn poured into the valley, swarming us from both sides. I hurled the pair of fire grenades out towards the most condensed clusters of darkspawn, feeling strength flow through me as Wynne cast an aura of heroism over us. I nodded gratefully to her before charging into the swarm, losing myself to the wild heat of battle.

Explosions and bursts of light and sound echoed around me as the mages cast spells at darkspawn clusters. I watched a group of darkspawn fall asleep on their feet as Jowan cast a sleep spell, and Morrigan cast horror – the creatures dropped dead from the sheer terror of their nightmares. Wynne was keeping up shields over Zevran, Olan and myself, as we were the most lightly armored, and had also cast a flame charm over our weapons.

Leliana and Neria were firing down with flame and ice arrows, and Katja was using some of her experimental 'oil bolts', the hollow shafts bursting on impact and splashing the darkspawn with a coating of oil, which promptly burst into flames with all the fire around. Sten, Oghren, Alistair and Olan had formed a defensive line around the wagon, protecting Dancia and our supplies, and Zevran and I wove in and out of the darkspawn, dealing damage in critical areas, crippling our opponents to ease the strain on the warriors.

The last of the darkspawn fell with a shriek as Zevran stabbed it in the throat, and he chuckled darkly, wiping his blades and sheathing them. "I believe that was the welcoming party," he quipped, and I smiled slightly, glad that even after this, my companions could still find humor in our situation.

"We should hurry – there aren't any more nearby…but I'd rather not stick around," I suggested, and everyone was glad to get a move on, dragging the darkspawn corpses out of the way and clearing a path for Dancia.

As we neared Redcliffe, Leliana spotted a runner, the lightly-armored man hailing us down by the windmill. "Your Majesty! Warden-Commander! You're here! Thank goodness!" the man gasped, running over once he spotted Alistair and me.

"What's happened here?" Alistair asked hurriedly, and the man shook his head, at a loss.

"I don't rightly know. Riordan of the Grey Wardens arrived this morning just ahead of the darkspawn. I was told that he has urgent news, and to send out patrols to watch for your arrival. Then we were attacked…" he relayed, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Riordan? What's he doing here?" I wondered. I recalled that he had mentioned scouting near the horde, but I didn't think he would be back so soon.

"I don't rightly know. Things happened so fast, I only know he was scouting in the south before he arrived," the messenger replied.

"Alright, let's go – Redcliffe's clear of darkspawn for the moment," I said, and the messenger nodded, motioning for us to follow him.

"I should take you to the hall right away, Your Majesty, my lady. They'll be waiting for you there," he urged, and we headed towards the castle. The courtyard was in ruin, with darkspawn corpses scattering the grounds, and wounded soldiers sitting by while mages and Dalish healers saw to their injuries. I allowed Wynne and Jowan to see to them as well while the rest of us were brought to the hall. I gave the others leave to rest, and Alistair and I followed the messenger.

oooo

Bann Teagan and Riordan were waiting in the main hall, nodding to us in greeting as we approached. "It's a relief to see you unharmed, Adeline, and you as well, Alistair…or should I say your Majesty?" Riordan smiled, his eyes relieved as he saw us both.

"Err…no. No, I wouldn't say that. Not yet, anyway," Alistair replied with a small, awkward smile, and Teagan looked at the man warmly as he nodded to Alistair respectfully, glad that he had arrived safely as well.

"The darkspawn that attacked Redcliffe were relatively few in number – they were taken down quickly by the gathered forces," Teagan began, getting right to business. "Those that attacked you were those that had fallen back, I'm afraid," he sighed – I could only imagine what the rest of the horde looked like if what we face were 'relatively few' of them. "It was assumed the horde was marching in this direction…but that is not true. Riordan tells us that the bulk of the horde is, in fact, heading towards Denerim. They are perhaps two days away from the capital," Teagan explained, and I opened my mouth to speak, shutting it quickly and swallowing the swear that had been about to escape.

" _What?_ Are we sure about that? I mean…if that's true…" Alistair exclaimed, his face turning pale at the thought.

"I ventured close enough to 'listen in', as it were. I am quite certain," Riordan replied gravely, his eyes serious as he looked between the two of us.

"Has word been sent to Denerim?" I asked – even if a Dalish runner couldn't cut through the Bannorn with the darkspawn, messenger birds might reach the capital before the horde and give them time to evacuate and fortify the walls.

"Word has been sent, but they need more than warning. They need our armies," Bann Teagan replied. I silently thanked the Maker that Eamon was in Denerim, fortifying the city with support from Dragon's Peak, as well as at least half the Dalish forces.

"There is, I'm afraid one other piece of news that is of even greater concern," Riordan added, getting our attention. "The archdemon has shown itself. The dragon is at the head of the horde."

"Maker preserve us!" Bann Teagan gasped, voicing everyone's thoughts.

"But we can't reach Denerim within two days, can we? It's too far – even cutting across the Bannorn will take a week," Alistair remarked.

"We must begin a forced march to the capital immediately, with what we have. Denerim must be defended at all costs," Teagan replied.

"Is it even possible to reach the city in time?" I asked, my tone anxious.

"Perhaps not, but what is important is that we know where the archdemon will be. If we do not defeat the archdemon, it will not matter if Denerim is saved or the horde defeated," Riordan replied softly. "And only the Grey Wardens can defeat the archdemon. That is why we must go."

"Then we march, and hope the army we've collected here gives us the chance we need," Alistair said. "Bann Teagan, how long before the army can set out?" he added, turning to the man.

"By daybreak…" Teagan replied, and Alistair nodded.

"Then let's get them ready. I won't let all those people die without giving them a chance," Alistair's tone was filled with determination as he spoke, and I smiled slightly as I watched him, heartened by his strength.

"So how _do_ we defeat the archdemon anyway?" I asked, glancing back at Riordan, and Alistair nodded.

"I was wondering that, myself," he added, and Riordan looked at us with surprise.

"Then…you don't know?" he asked, and Alistair and I shot each other a quick glance – we didn't like the way he said that. "Of course not. You are both new recruits, Duncan wouldn't have expected…" Riordan murmured, looking at the ground thoughtfully.

Teagan nodded slightly, speaking to Alistair. "I will give the orders at once, and will notify you the moment we are ready to march," he said.

"That would be appreciated, thank you," Alistair replied.

"Then if you and Alistair could meet me before you retire, we have Grey Warden business to discuss," Riordan added, his eyes still thoughtful as he bowed, leaving the main hall.

"I will have someone show you to your rooms. I suggest you all get some rest, while you can. We will need it," Teagan said, bidding us goodnight.

"I'll be with you in a moment – I just want to check on something," I told Alistair as he looked towards the stairs.

"Alright," he replied, heading off.

I went through the castle, checking on the representatives of our armies and asking for their statuses. Once I saw that everything was nearly ready to go, I found Bella and the rest of the Wardens' Rest staff, making sure they were alright. "Fergus," I said, once I had greeted the others, "your surname is Cousland." He froze at my words, but I held up a hand. "I met your brother, Aedan," I explained, and his eyes shone with moisture as his shoulders stiffened.

"Lord Cousland is alive?" Roland asked, and Celia clasped her hands before her, murmuring prayers of thanks to the Maker.

"He's retaken Highever," I replied, and Fergus grabbed my hands.

"What of Howe?" he asked, "is he dead?"

"Yes," I replied. "Aedan killed the snake himself." Fergus let out a long breath, his eyes shining with relief.

"Thank the Maker…" he sighed. "And thank you, my lady, for telling me this." I smiled, bidding them goodnight and checking on my companions before heading upstairs towards Riordan's room. I spotted Alistair waiting in the hall, and he nodded in greeting as I joined him.

"Ah, there you are. Now let's see what Riordan has to say," he said, motioning for me to follow. He knocked on Riordan's door, and the Grey Warden let us in, closing and locking the door and drawing the blinds. I looked at Alistair, wondering what was going on – Riordan was being very secretive, and it was making me uneasy.

"Please know, I assumed you had already been told. Otherwise, I would have told you this when you freed me in Denerim. I am sorry," Riordan began, and Alistair raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"What is it? What are you apologizing for?" he asked, and Riordan let out a soft sigh, his eyes sad when he looked back at us.

"Tell me, have you ever wondered _why_ the Grey Wardens are needed to defeat the darkspawn?" he asked, and I shrugged slightly.

"I assume it has something to do with the taint in us," I replied, and he nodded.

"That is exactly what it involves," he confirmed. "The archdemon may be slain as any other darkspawn, but should any other than a Grey Warden do the slaying, it will not be enough," Riordan continued. "The essence of the beast will pass through the taint to the nearest darkspawn and will be reborn anew in that body," he explained. "The dragon is thus all but immortal." Our faces paled with dread at the words. "But if the archdemon is slain by a Grey Warden…its essence travels into the Grey Warden, instead."

"And…what happens to the Grey Warden?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"A darkspawn is an empty, soulless vessel, but a Grey Warden is not," Riordan replied. "The essence of the archdemon is destroyed…and so is the Grey Warden."

We were silent at this revelation, and it was a few moments before Alistair managed to find his voice. "Meaning…the Grey Warden who kills the archdemon…dies?" he spoke, his tone sobered, and Riordan's eyes were solemn as he nodded.

"Yes. Without the archdemon, the Blight ends. It is the only way," he answered.

"Is there no other way? Must a Grey Warden die?" My voice wavered as I spoke, and Riordan held my gaze.

"As far as we know, the transfer of the archdemon's essence is automatic," he replied. "If one of us is not present when the killing blow is made, it is all for nothing. There is no other way." He sighed, running a hand over his forehead at the distressed looks on our faces. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry," he added softly.

"So it's…up to the three of us to kill this thing," I concluded, and he nodded slightly.

"In Blights past, when the time came, the eldest of the Grey Wardens would decide which amongst them would take that final blow. If possible, the final blow should be mine to make. I am the eldest, and the taint will not spare me much longer," Riordan offered, "but if I fail, the deed falls to one of you."

"If it comes to that, I am willing to take the blow," Alistair said, stepping forth, and I stared at him, grabbing his arm.

"What? No! Alistair, what about being king?" I cried, and he looked at me sadly, letting out a soft breath. He placed a hand over mine, his eyes sincere as he held my gaze.

"I know. All my life I didn't want to be king, and now that I do, I might have to give it up," he chuckled humorlessly at the situation, shaking his head. "But what would be the point of being king if I didn't do my duty for my country?" he asked. "No, just make sure I'm there when we fight this archdemon. I'll do what I have to," he said, turning to look at Riordan once more.

"If we do not stop the Blight here and now it will destroy all of Ferelden before the Grey Wardens elsewhere can assemble. Remember that," Riordan reminded us, and we both gave a short, sharp nod. "But enough. There will be much to do tomorrow and little enough time to rest before it. I will let you return to your rooms."

"I will see you once the army is ready to march, then. I guess this ends soon, one way or another," Alistair sighed, clasping Riordan's arm.

"That it does, my friend, that it does," the older Grey Warden replied, shaking Alistair's arm and turning to me, offering his hand. I nodded grimly and shook it, bidding the man goodnight as Alistair and I left the room.

"I…want to go speak to Bann Teagan, see what the situation is," Alistair said softly, and I nodded, feeling numb after what Riordan had said. I walked through the halls in a daze, returning to our room and closing the door, staring blankly at the wall as I sat at the writing desk. I glanced up as I heard a faint tapping, turning and noticing something by the window. I jumped, seeing a small black cat with bright yellow eyes sitting on the sill, raising an eyebrow as she looked steadily back at me. _Morrigan?_ I wondered, walking over.

"Do not be alarmed. It is only I," Morrigan said, and I nodded, opening the window and letting her into the room.

"Is everything all right?" I asked, watching as she hopped to the floor and shifting back into her human form. The dark-haired woman nodded, a look of concern on her face as she approached.

"I am well. 'Tis _you_ who are in danger," she replied, and I cocked my head, not knowing what she meant. _Was she…eavesdropping on our conversation with Riordan?_ I wondered, listening to her regardless. "I have a plan, you see. A way out – the loop in your hole," she continued. "I know what happens when the archdemon dies. I know a Grey Warden must be sacrificed, and that sacrifice could be you. I have come to tell you this does not need to be." I felt my eyes widen in surprise, and I stared at the woman, caught off guard.

"Wait, how do you know about this?" I asked, bewildered, and Morrigan made a face.

"I know a great many things. _How_ I know is not quite as important as what I am offering you, however," she said quickly, brushing off my question. "I offer a way out. A way out for _all_ the Grey Wardens, that there need be no sacrifice. A ritual…performed on the eve of battle, in the dark of night," she continued, and I felt a knot forming in my chest at her words.

"Just what sort of ritual is this?" I asked suspiciously, and she made a face, glancing at the doorway.

"Come, we should go somewhere more private, lest Alistair walk in on us," she said, and I curbed my suspicion, following her as she led me out of the hall, back towards her room. Once we were inside, she locked the door and window, drawing the curtain; the only source of light in the room was a small candle that flickered on the desk in the corner. She told me to sit, crossing her arms as she leaned her hip against the desk, looking at me in silence for a while.

"So…what is this ritual?" I asked once more, and Morrigan took a quiet breath, looking at the candle and closing her eyes for a few moments before beginning.

"It is old magic, from a time before the Circle of Magi was created. Some would call it blood magic, but I think that means little to one like you," she explained, and I nodded slightly, urging her to continue.

"Then tell me more," I urged.

"What I propose is this; convince Alistair to lay with me. Here, tonight. And from this ritual a child shall be conceived within me. The child will bear the taint, and when the archdemon is slain, its essence will seek the child like a beacon," Morrigan said in a hushed tone. "At this early stage, the child can absorb that essence and not perish. The archdemon is still destroyed, with no Grey Warden dying in the process," she explained quickly; if I hadn't been sitting down already, my legs would have given out from under me at the shock.

"I…but…wh-why aren't you talking to Alistair about this?" I asked, stammering out the words in my surprise.

"Alistair despises me. You know this," Morrigan replied, looking towards the door. "He rarely listens to reason…but he would listen to you. You of all people could influence him," she added. "Think about what I offer you; you will live, as will Alistair. You could slay the archdemon and live as a hero, something no Grey Warden has ever done," she argued. "In return I conceive a child, one who will be born with the soul of an Old God. After this is done, you allow me to walk away…and you do not follow. Ever. The child will be mine to raise as I wish," she explained, and I bit my lip, feeling my fingers tighten into fists as I held them on my lap, looking at the ground.

"Why Alistair? Why not Riordan?" I asked, and Morrigan saw the pain in my eyes. _I…I can't ask him to do this…_

"Even if I thought Riordan could be convinced, he is unsuitable," Morrigan replied, her tone cold as she stated simple facts. "I need one who has not been tainted for long – it must be him, and it must be tonight."

"You actually think Alistair will agree to this?" I asked, and Morrigan gave a small shrug.

"If you care for him as you seem to, you will convince him to," she replied. "Consider what the alternative might be? Do you think Alistair will fail to do his duty as the future king and save his country?" I flinched at her words, looking down. "And if you take the blow instead, he loses the woman he loves. How do you think he would feel about that?" her tone hardened to steel as I stared blankly at the ground, and I shut my eyes. "I think you have many good reasons to tell him to save his own life. I think you should consider them carefully."

"I…want to know more about this child," I breathed, my voice strained.

"As you wish," Morrigan replied, knowing that I was trying to stall for time – I needed to let this all sink in.

"The child won't be hurt, will it?" I asked, and she shook her head, looking towards the curtained window, her eyes moving slowly across the dark room.

"Ignoring that after but one night it could barely be called a child…no, it will not be hurt. It will be changed," she explained. I ran my hands over my face, leaning back in the chair and looking up at her with uncertainty.

"What if Alistair wants to…see his child?" I murmured. Morrigan saw the pain in my eyes, and she let out a soft sigh.

"I have no doubt he may…but he will not. It is all I ask for in return," she said gently. I placed my hand over my heart, looking at the flickering candle as a ball of wax rolled down the side, cooling into a teardrop shape as it slid out of the fire's heat.

"Why…couldn't _I_ bear the child?" I asked, my voice just above a whisper. "I'm a demon, so the taint affects me differently. Couldn't I–"

"Would that you could," Morrigan murmured. "But you can only use magic in your demon form. And it would take too long to teach you, even if it _were_ possible."

"I see. Enough about the child, then," I sighed.

"Then have you decided?" Morrigan asked, and I nodded slowly, standing and moving towards the door as if in shock.

"I…agree. I'll do it," I replied softly.

"A wise decision. I shall wait here, then, while you go and speak with Alistair. I urge you to be convincing," she said, watching as I left. I returned to my room, stopping for a moment at the door and taking in a soft breath, balling my hands into fists so tightly that I felt my knuckles crack, and my nails digging into my palms. I took in a deeper breath and ran a hand through my hair, trying to look calm as I entered the room.

oooo

I stood there in the darkness for what felt like hours – though it couldn't have been more than a few minutes – looking out the window towards the ruined remains of Redcliffe; there would need to be a lot of rebuilding, once the Blight was over. I turned slightly as I heard the creak of the door at my back, and saw Alistair's reflection in the window, a pool of light from the hall streaming into the room.

"I see you can't sleep, either," Alistair remarked as he came in, going to the writing desk and lighting the candle. "I also saw Morrigan outside her room earlier, and the look she gave me…that was icy even for her," he added. He came up behind me, standing a foot away as I remained silent. "Is something up?" he asked softly.

"You can't sleep? Are you alright?" I murmured, glancing back at him – we had both been restless the past few nights, but Alistair looked worn out.

"Not really," he admitted. "All these men look at me and…I see it in their eyes; I'm their king. Suddenly it feels so real," he sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck. "But now you're changing the subject. This isn't about me, this is about Morrigan," he added, giving me a pointed look. "I'm tired, but I'm not stupid. What did she want?"

"Alistair, we…need to talk," I began softly – I was still torn about this, my heart aching at what I had to ask of him. _No one should ask that of another person…_

"Oh. I guess whatever Morrigan had to say, it's big," Alistair guessed, walking a little closer and seeing the worried look on my face. "This is what I get for becoming king. Everyone always brings you the bad news," he chuckled softly, trying to cheer me up. "So what is it, then? Rats running amok? Cheese supplies run low? I can take it."

I stared up at him, biting my lower lip nervously. "I love you. You know that, right?" I asked, and Alistair smiled slightly.

"Could you make it sound more ominous? Tell me, already," he urged, crossing his arms.

"What if I told you there was a way to avoid dying in Denerim?" I murmured, and he cocked his head, his brow furrowing at my words.

"You mean with the archdemon, right?" he confirmed. "Well, I already said that I'll take the blow if Riordan can't. So you don't need to worry about it. Is that what you wanted? What is this about?" he questioned and I braced myself – I couldn't delay this any longer.

"I…need you to take part in a magic ritual," I began, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Something Morrigan cooked up, no doubt," he guessed, seeming almost amused. "What do you need me to do?"

"…youneedtosleepwithher." Alistair furrowed his brow as I rushed the words out – he hadn't understood what I had said. "You need to sleep with her," I said in a louder voice, and his eyes widened in surprise. A broad grin spread across his face and he burst out laughing, shaking his head as he leaned against one of the bedposts.

"Cute. This is payback, right? For all the jokes?" he chuckled. His smile faded as he saw the blank look in my eyes, and he stared at me. "But…you're not joking. You're actually _serious_ ," he breathed, pushing himself off the bedpost. He began pacing around, and I watched him all the while, cursing the Blight and cursing the archdemon. "Wow, be killed by the archdemon or sleep with Morrigan. How does someone make that kind of choice?" he asked, a nervous laugh escaping his throat. "You're not actually _asking_ me this, are you? What kind of _ritual_ is this, anyway?" he added, stopping his pacing as he looked back at me.

"I won't lie to you," I whispered. "It will…produce a child."

" _WHAT!?_ " Alistair shouted, and I flinched. "I…I must be hearing things, but are you telling me to _impregnate_ Morrigan in some kind of magical _sex_ rite!?" he exclaimed, and I stared at the ground, nodding mutely. "This…child…why would Morrigan want such a thing? Does she want an heir to the throne?" he asked, and I shrugged weakly.

"I…think she wants to make some kind of Old God…"

"Oh. Well that's so much _better_ , don't you think? Here I was worried about creating another bastard heir and I didn't even _consider_ that it might also be some dragon…god…whatever!" he yelled, and I shut my eyes, understanding his anger. "Look, even if I _was_ willing to entertain this idea…and I'm not saying I am…is this really what you want me to do? Are you sure…?" Alistair's tone was gentler as he looked at me, and I walked over to him slowly.

"You need to trust me," I begged.

"Trust you? I…this is too much, I can't just…"

"I would do it myself if I could!" I cried, and he groaned, hitting his head against one of the bedposts at my words.

"Oh, great. Of all the times to regret being a _man_ …" he sighed. "Look, just because I have the proper… Just because I can… _Look_ , that doesn't make this a good idea!" he argued.

"But it can save whoever kills the archdemon," I reminded him and he ran a hand over his eyes.

"…the answer is still no. It wouldn't be fair to you," he murmured, and I scowled, my fists clenching at my sides.

"Wouldn't be fair? Wouldn't be _fair?_ Life _hasn't_ been fair!" I yelled, and Alistair's eyes widened at my anger. "I don't care if it's fair or not; I _can't_ lose you too! And you're going to be king. What happens to Ferelden if you die?" I asked.

"It is my duty _as_ king to protect the country. If it comes to it, I will gladly die to end the Blight if you won't," Alistair said, his voice lowering – he didn't meet my eyes as he spoke. "I don't know why Morrigan thought I would actually agree to this, or why she thought she had to send you, but it isn't going to happen."

I was quiet. My anger petered out and was replaced by dread – a pit of ice crept over my stomach, and I shivered as I felt something inside of me begin screaming, drowning out everything else. "As you wish, my king," I said coldly, sweeping out of the room before he could stop me.

I stormed down the hall, and Morrigan spotted me as she waited outside of her room. When she saw that I was alone, and that I didn't stop, she fell into step beside me. "I take it things did not–"

"No. They did not," I spat. "He's going to sacrifice himself."

"But by that look in your eye, you plan to intervene?" Morrigan remarked, and I stopped at the end of the hall, looking her straight in the eyes.

"You're sodding _right_ I plan to intervene!" I hissed, trying to keep my voice down. "Tell _no_ _one_ of this. He'll find a way to stop me otherwise."

Morrigan nodded slowly, her eyes looking back towards my bedroom door. "As you wish," she murmured, returning to her room. I stood in the hall, letting out a groan and covering my face.

"Fuck…"

oOo

Duran was watching the generals with weary eyes. He had been given leave from the Legion to help fight on the surface, but it seemed that the intrigues of Orzammar's government permeated every corner of the world. The Dwarf generals were arguing over politics _still_ , even on the surface, in the midst of the Blight. "By the _Stone_ , there's no end to it!" he finally muttered, shaking his head and walking down the hall towards the kitchen. _They probably don't have any good Dwarven brew, but I hear that Antivans make decent brandy, at least,_ he thought, pausing as he entered the kitchen. He heard, faintly, a wavering, hiccupping voice sobbing out a drinking song.

"With three beers down the Dwarf did frown and bid the Elf goodbye! For none would know 'twas not for show, that someone had to die!" Duran recognized Adeline's voice, throaty and strained with emotion. He walked into a smaller room off to the side, where the flour and grain was stored, and he found the Elf lying propped up against some bags of flour, her eyes bloodshot and her cheeks tearstained and flushed from drink. A bottle of wine lay empty on the side, and the girl held a second one up to her lips, taking a long draught. "Duran! My favorite exiled prince!" she greeted blearily, stifling a belch – and probably vomit, Duran thought – as she waved to him with the bottle.

"You're a mess, Adeline," Duran sighed, walking over and sitting down. "What happened?" he asked, and she let out a bitter laugh.

"What happened? Oh, you're funny Duran," she giggled, flopping her head back against the flour and making a small cloud puff into the air. "I'mma die when we get to Denerim," she slurred, and Duran raised an eyebrow.

"That's not for certain. We've got a decent army, so we stand a fighting chance," Duran argued, but the girl shook her head.

"No-no, thass not what I mean," she said, looking at the bottle in her hand for a moment before putting it down. "The archdemon. _I'm_ gonna die when _it_ dies," she explained, patting her heart. Duran looked at the Elf in confusion.

"What do you mean?" he asked, and she snorted, closing her eyes.

"S'a secret. But we're friends, so I'll spill it," she sighed. "When the archdemon dies, the soul flies out and eats up the soul of the nearest Grey Warden. That'll be me – I'm not going to let Alistair get anywhere _near_ that sodding great lizard if I can help it," she said adamantly, even in her drunk state. Duran felt a chill go through him at her words, and he stared at the girl.

"But…there has to be another way…" he murmured, and she laughed, a sharp, bitter bark that made him flinch.

"Aye, there is. But Alistair won't do it. He's going to be king, so I can't let him take the final blow," Adeline's eyes grew distant, and she started crying. "Oh…why couldn't we have been born someone else…somewhere else…" she cried, closing her eyes. Duran looked down, not knowing what to say. Adeline let out a long sigh, and the Dwarf listened as her breathing slowly evened, and she passed out.

"By the Stone…" he murmured as he looked at the frail girl. "Your Maker must indeed be a cruel god to allow such a thing," the Dwarf sighed, standing. He gently gathered Adeline in his arms, placing her lightly over his shoulder and heading out of the storage room. He stopped as he came into the kitchen, looking up with surprise; Alistair was standing there with eyes large as saucers – evidently, he had heard the entire exchange.

"I…here," Alistair said, walking over, "I'll take her." Duran handed Adeline over to him, and the man sighed as he looked at her, running a finger over her tearstained cheek.

"Take care of her," Duran said quietly as he walked out, carrying the remainder of Adeline's second bottle of wine.

Alistair closed his eyes, letting out a long breath and looking down at Adeline's sleeping form. "I will," he said to the open air, returning to their room.

oooo

"Morrigan," Alistair said as he stood in the doorway. The witch was standing by the fire, her arms crossed. "Adeline…told me about your proposal," he continued, and Morrigan turned slightly to look at him. She could see pain and fear in his eyes…but also certainty; he had come to perform the ritual.

"Good. You will save both of your lives by doing this," she replied, sweeping over to him and shutting the door, locking it behind him. Alistair took a long, slow breath, and Morrigan looked up at him. "I would not offer this, were there an alternative, Alistair – perhaps you will not believe my words, but I am not without sympathy," her voice was soft, and the man looked at her with surprise. "Lie with me tonight, and you shall never have to look upon me again."

oooo

Morrigan sat in silence on the bed, feeling the spell take. "'Tis complete," she said simply, and Alistair looked at the woman's back, his expression disturbed, and his body tense.

"The…child…" he murmured, and she glanced back at him. "I'll never see it, will I?" he asked, and Morrigan shook her head.

"I will not use them to take your throne, Alistair," the witch replied, and he shook his head.

"That's not what I meant," he said softly. "Morrigan…please…tell them that I didn't…abandon them. You don't have to say who I am – I know you won't – but just…" he sighed, and the woman watched him with her enigmatic, dragon's eyes.

"As you wish," she promised. "The child will know that their father was a hero." Alistair was stunned; he had never heard Morrigan sound so sympathetic or understanding before – he didn't even know that she was capable of it. Before he could say anything else, Morrigan stood, tossing his clothes to him as she dressed herself. "Now I suggest you see to Adeline – she…plans to kill the archdemon herself. The ritual will not protect you from harm against the beast – it will only protect your soul when it dies. Adeline is sure to do something reckless, and likely get herself killed," Morrigan warned, and Alistair nodded.

"Morrigan…I…can't say I'm…happy about what just happened, but…thank you. For saving her," Alistair said, leaving the room. Morrigan returned quietly to her place by the fire and let out a quiet sigh, placing a hand over her womb.

"'Tis not I who saved her, you foolish man," she murmured, the smallest of smiles on her lips as she looked at her stomach.

Alistair found Adeline lying on the bed in their room, staring blankly at the ceiling. She glanced over and sat up, watching him as he stepped through the doorway, shutting the door behind him. He walked slowly to the bed, sitting down next to her, and she slid over to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "I'm sorry," she whispered, pressing her forehead against the back of his neck.

"Adeline?" Alistair asked, turning slightly. There were tears in her eyes, and he took her in his arms, feeling her body shaking like a leaf.

"I…wasn't thinking, earlier," she began softly. "What I was asking you to do…it wasn't right. I shouldn't have even spoken about it," she murmured, and Alistair's arms tightened around her. "Can you forgive me?" she asked, and Alistair pressed his lips against her forehead.

"Of course I can," he replied, and she let out a long sigh.

"Then…let's just forget it ever happened," she continued. Alistair saw how troubled she was, and nodded; he would tell her tomorrow, then. "For now…just…hold me," she whispered. Alistair wrapped his arms around her as the two lay together, and he gently stroked her hair as she curled into him, burying her face in his chest.

"I love you, Adeline. Never doubt that," Alistair murmured into her hair, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, shutting her eyes and holding onto him tightly, as if she were afraid that he would disappear. "I won't let anything happen to you."

oooo

They were two days from Denerim, and Alistair was getting anxious; not just about facing the darkspawn, but about Adeline. She had been avoiding him, burying herself in work the past few days to distract herself. He grated his teeth together as he stood in his tent, staring at the ceiling. The place had been decorated with _real_ furniture, despite his protests. _Only_ _ **Cailan**_ _would think to have them haul a huge bed out in the middle of a battlefield,_ he thought with some amusement as he looked at the bed, shaking his head.

 _I need to speak with her before this goes too far, though. I couldn't live with myself if…something happened, and she didn't know._ He let out a long sigh, walking over to the exit of his tent and stepping out into the night air. He refused to wear the highly decorative armor that Cailan used to wear, favoring the more maneuverable dragon-scale armor Wade had made for him – the outside was a bit more decorative than Alistair would have liked, but it was still light and functional.

When he _wasn't_ in armor, he wore simple clothes; they were finely made, but not overly elaborate. Most of his men didn't even know what their king _looked_ like – Alistair planned to give a speech before they reached Denerim, but for now, he rather enjoyed walking among the soldiers as if he were one of them. Alistair spotted a runner – a nervous, brown-haired Elf – and hailed him down. "Ah! Your Majesty!" the Elf gasped, and Alistair held up a hand.

"Please, you don't have to do that," he insisted gently. "I'd like you to take a message to the Warden-Commander, Adeline Tabris," he began, and the Elf stood to attention. "I would like to speak to her – send someone to find me as soon as she reaches my tent," he finished, and the messenger bobbed his head, running off to deliver the message.

Alistair wandered through the camp as he thought of what to say. He let out a soft sigh – he hoped she wouldn't be mad. _But it's not as if I've been_ _ **keeping**_ _it from her – she just hasn't been listening to me,_ he argued. "Oi! Pike-twirler!" a familiar, gravelly voice called from nearby, and Alistair let out a groan. He walked over to Oghren, who was sitting by a large bonfire with mixed forces of Dwarves, Elves and humans.

"I don't know why I keep _responding_ to that," Alistair admitted as he sat next to the Dwarf. Looking around the fire, he saw that some of the men looked less travel-worn than others; he spotted Aedan and another familiar man chatting excitedly as they came over as well. "Aedan! Good to see you," Alistair stood, walking over and greeting the Teyrn of Highever. "I'm glad to see that Highever's forces have arrived safely," he added, nodding at the men by the fire, who were glancing over curiously – they wondered who this man was, speaking to their Teyrn in such a lax way. "And…Fergus?" Alistair asked, his expression puzzled as he saw the man.

"What? Brother, how do you know Alistair?" Aedan asked with surprise, and Fergus chuckled, smiling at the pair's confused expressions. Alistair _thought_ that Fergus had looked familiar – he recalled, vaguely, that they had met once, before the battle at Ostagar.

"Celia, Roland and I worked at the tavern Adeline owns in Redcliffe – she and Alistair came to visit from time to time," the older man explained, and Aedan raised an eyebrow.

"You worked at a tavern?" the younger Cousland asked with amusement, and Fergus grinned.

"Well I was _getting_ to that part of the tale, until you kept interrupting me with questions," he replied. "If you'll excuse us, Alistair, I'd like to tell my little brother about _all_ my great adventures as barkeep at the Wardens' Rest," he chuckled. "I wish you had seen the look on Adeline's face when she noticed the adjustable barstools the first time – _priceless_."

"Ah, wait, Fergus," Alistair said, and the man nodded. "And Aedan," he added, and Aedan stood to attention. "Um…what are we going to do about the succession?" he asked awkwardly. The Couslands glanced at one another and shrugged.

"Everyone always thought that my brother would be a stronger Teyrn," Fergus admitted, "and I've come to enjoy life without the complications of nobility." Aedan looked at his brother with surprise, and Fergus chuckled. "I'm not going to take the Teyrnir away from you, Aedan," he assured him. "Just let me have my old room when I come to visit."

"That's the least I can do," Aedan replied, patting his brother's shoulder and smiling sadly at him. "Know that you'll always have a place back in Highever – you, Celia and Roland," the Teyrn promised, and Fergus smiled.

"Well…" Alistair remarked, "there's also…Gwaren. The place needs a Teyrn," he said, and Fergus looked at him with surprise.

"My king, I can't ask that of you," the man replied, and Alistair shrugged.

"It needs to go to _someone_ …and I find myself with a shortage of Teyrns," he argued, and Fergus pursed his lips.

"…perhaps I will think about it," he relented, although he seemed more eager than apprehensive.

Alistair bade them goodnight as they headed off, returning to the campfire and taking his spot next to Oghren, making a face as he heard the story the Dwarf was telling the soldiers. "And then _pike-twirler_ over here falls head-first into the pitfall," he laughed, and Alistair groaned.

"Only because Olan _tripped_ me! I swear, that dog is a better assassin than _Zevran_ ," he retorted. "I'm lucky the bottom of the pit was just mud, and not sharpened spikes," he added, and Oghren grinned as the soldiers chuckled. _At least they seem cheerful enough,_ Alistair thought, smiling slightly as he let out a relieved breath. "…but if I remember correctly, you and the dog left me in that pit half the night," he added, glaring at Oghren.

"Ah, we all had a good laugh after that," the Dwarf replied, taking a draught from his flask, and Alistair smirked.

"Before or _after_ Adeline nearly throttled you?" he joked. He glanced up as he spotted Zevran coming through the crowd, tapping him on the shoulder. He had an odd look on his face – a mix of amusement and chagrin – and Alistair raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter?" Alistair asked as he got to his feet.

"Someone mistook me for a servant; asked me to deliver a bundle of swords," the Elf said wryly, and Alistair sighed.

"I'm sorry about that," he apologized, and Zevran chuckled, relaxing slightly.

"Not as sorry as the quartermaster is," he replied. "Oh, and while I am at it, Adeline's waiting for you," he added, and Alistair nodded slightly.

"Right. Thank you, Zevran," he said. "And I'm sorry about the servant thing, again," he added, and Zevran shrugged.

"Perhaps it is for the best – it is much easier to blend into a crowd that way," the assassin winked cheekily, vanishing a moment later as someone passed by between them; Alistair _still_ wasn't sure how he could just disappear like that. He ran a hand through his hair, heading back towards his tent to speak to Adeline.

oooo

Alistair entered his tent, finding the Elf standing by the desk with her arms crossed, looking blankly at the candle she had lit. She glanced up at his approach, and he noticed that she was keeping her expression neutral. "Your Majesty," she bowed, and Alistair made a face at the title, "you needed to see me?" Alistair walked over to her, his eyes soft as he reached out a hand, placing it on Adeline's waist. Her eyelids flickered as she fought to control her expression.

"We can't keep doing this to each other, Adeline," he whispered, and she let out a soft sigh. Her eyes were pained, and she slowly reached up, cupping his face.

"But isn't it better to be numb than to be in pain?" she replied, and he smiled sadly.

"Why be in pain at all?" he countered. "Adeline, just listen to me," he added, seeing the hurt in her eyes. "About that night in Redcliffe…"

"Alistair, no," she murmured, looking down. "I thought we weren't going to talk about it. I…I can't regret something that should never have been mentioned." Her shoulders shook, and Alistair pulled her to him.

"Love…" he said gently. "Kitten. Please," he breathed, and she looked up at him. "I did it." Her eyes widened in shock at his words, and she stared at him with such surprise that Alistair couldn't help but smile. He kissed her gently, but she turned her face, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"Is…is that true?" Adeline asked, her voice wavering.

"I would never lie to you, ma vhenan," Alistair replied firmly. He pressed his lips against hers as she sighed with relief, throwing her arms around his neck as she kissed him back. Adeline gasped for breath as her legs gave out, and she had to brace herself against the desk as Alistair held her in place, his hips pressed against hers. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner – I never got the chance," he apologized, and Adeline let out a small, sad laugh as she sat on the desk.

"It's my own foolish stubbornness," she admitted, shaking her head. "Oh Alistair, you don't know how happy this makes me…" she sighed, and Alistair smirked, sweeping her into his arms as she laughed, kissing her hair.

"Do you honestly think I would let the woman I love die on my watch?" he asked, setting her on the bed as he kissed her, and Adeline smiled softly as she wrapped her arms around him, playing with the soft hairs by the nape of his neck.

"Mmm…no," she admitted. "But you _would_ do something stupid," she added, kissing him lightly, "like taking the killing blow for me." Alistair chuckled as he ran his fingers gently over her jaw line, moving up to her ear and caressing the sensitive skin.

"That makes two of us," he whispered. Adeline sighed softly as the two undressed, pressing her forehead against Alistair's as she felt his arms around her – it had only been a few weeks since Denerim, but she had missed being with him like this.

"Now we just have to worry about surviving until we actually _get_ to the archdemon," Adeline said, and Alistair nodded, pulling her to him as he ran his fingers over her back, moving over the patterns of her tattoo.

"Until then…" he murmured, kissing her across the scar over her temple, "let's not think of the Blight or darkspawn or any of that."

"Hmm…fair enough," Adeline chuckled, the tension melting from her body as the two became lost in one another.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Note:

I was almost tempted to not do this – I love a good tragedy, but Maker's breath… I saved before the ritual and battled the archdemon to see what it would be like, making the ultimate sacrifice; I was _bawling_ my _eyes_ out at Alistair's eulogy for my Warden. I've never been so affected by a game – even just _thinking_ about it makes my heart clench up.

A bit of a random aside – speaking of bawling, am I the only one who gets teary-eyed at the end of the Human Noble Origin? Like, _every_ time? I was trying out a mod, "Of Noble Cast" by JOG, for the noble origin – which is really nice, by the way [it tweaks the noble origin a bit, if that wasn't evident by the name], and when Elissa and Duncan were escaping, I actually started tearing up.


	54. Chapter 54: Into the Fire

Chapter 54

Into the Fire

Author's note:

We're getting close to the end of Adeline's story, everyone. I'd really like to thank you for reading this and sticking around this whole time. Also, I'd like to apologize in advanced if the battle scenes feel a bit sparse – I always have a hard time writing interesting battles, and it tends to get repetitive.

Disclaimer – I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Denerim was just ahead, the land painted red and black with the blood of both the darkspawn and Denerim's defenders. Black clouds of smoke coiled up over the city like snakes, and the scent of death and decay hung in the air – no wind was blowing, and the air felt heavy and crackled with tense energy. I felt like a wire about to snap, shifting nervously from foot to foot as my heart raced, and I glanced at my companions and the soldiers nearby – they were nervous as well, fidgeting and murmuring silent prayers before the battle.

Alistair clambered onto a high rise, taking my hand so that I stood beside him, and he cleared his throat, glancing at Selina, who cast a spell to amplify his voice over the entire army. "Before us stands the might of the darkspawn horde!" he said, gesturing towards Denerim as he drew the attention of the soldiers. "Gaze upon them now, but fear them not!" He turned to look at me, taking my hand in his and raising it above our heads. "The woman you see beside me is an Elf, raised to the ranks of the Grey Wardens! And never a more glorious Grey Warden has there been!"

The soldiers applauded, and I felt the nervousness replaced with excitement as Alistair continued. "She has survived despite the odds, and without her, none of us would be here!" he added, and those we had saved as we gathered the armies whistled and cheered. "Today, we save Denerim! Today, we avenge the death of my brother, King Cailan! But most of all, today we show the Grey Wardens that we remember and honor their sacrifice!" Alistair called. "For Ferelden! For the Grey Wardens!" he roared, drawing his sword and holding it to the sky.

The armies echoed his battle cry as they streamed down the hillsides towards Denerim, their expressions grim and their hearts blazing as they defended their homeland. I grabbed Alistair's hand in my right and held Claíomh Solais in my left as we ran together, charging and shouting "For the Grey Wardens!"

The main gate was a meat-grinder – our forces streamed in and startled the darkspawn with the ferocity of our initial attack. I heard the whizz of arrows overhead, ducking as the shining forms of halla leapt high over the heads of our men, a pair of Elves on each creature – one lancer, one archer. Loud snarls and barks came from a side-street, and mabari hounds rushed through the crowds, leaping on the darkspawn and biting their throats.

A bellowing roar echoed through the sky, and I looked up as I pushed a dead hurlock from my blades, my skin crawling as I spotted the archdemon weaving through the black clouds. Archers fired at the dragon, and the Dwarves took aim with their ballistae – they fired nets with weighted stones into the sky, trying to catch the dragon across a wing to hinder its movement. The archdemon spiraled out of range as it dodged the nets and arrows, snarling as one net was slung across its spined tail, tangling in the spikes and making the beast spin wildly through the air.

"Maker have mercy on our souls…" Selina murmured as she stared up at the creature, placing a hand over her heart. "You need to fight _that?_ " she asked me, once the fighting in this area had died down a bit. She ducked as I grabbed her shoulder, stabbing a shriek that had tried to get behind her, and she nodded gratefully.

"Yes," I replied, a grim set to my face as I watched the dragon disappear into the clouds.

"Good luck with that," the mage chuckled humorlessly, spinning her staff and whacking a genlock across the jaw, shooting a bolt of lightning through its chest.

"Thank the Maker!" I heard people shouting – the soldiers that had cried out wore the colors of Dragon's Peak and of the Royal Guard. I spotted Ser Cauthrien behead a genlock with a wide sweep of her blade, trotting over to me as the darkspawn dropped like flies.

"Warden-Commander," she greeted, bowing her head slightly in respect.

"Ser Cauthrien," I replied. "What's the situation around the city?" I asked, and she stood to attention as she gave her report.

"The regent has evacuated most of the city's districts – they have been taken aboard ships, and will continue to Alamar if the city falls. Some of the lower districts were unable to flee, I'm afraid, and are surrounded heavily by darkspawn – any citizens who have managed to slip through are sheltering in the palace with the injured." I nodded as she finished, crossing my arms.

"Good work, Ser Cauthrien," I said. "It looks like things have settled down here," I added, watching as the last darkspawn fell. "Keep your men and those from Dragon's Peak at the ready – I need to speak with the others."

"Yes, Warden-Commander," Ser Cauthrien bowed again, and I ran over towards where the others had gathered with Riordan.

"You've managed to fight your way to the gates. We're doing better than I hoped," Riordan remarked, wiping darkspawn blood from his face with the back of his glove, looking around at the corpses. People had already begun building bonfires with the remains of ruined buildings, tossing the dead bodies into the pyre so that their taint wouldn't spread further.

"That will change quickly," Sten replied. I shuddered as I heard the archdemon roaring through the clouds, my skin crawling. I could sense hundreds, no, _thousands_ of darkspawn throughout Denerim – this was going to be one hell of a battle.

"Bloody nug runners! We're outnumbered three to one!" Oghren exclaimed, flinching as Wynne treated a wound on his arm – he had taken an arrow in his bicep, and Wynne was carefully extracting the barbed head.

"What are we to do now, Riordan? You have a plan, I assume?" the elderly mage asked, and Riordan nodded.

"The army will not last long if the archdemon tries to land here, so we'll need to move quickly to reach it," he replied, looking back at me. "I suggest taking Alistair and no more than two others with you into the city. Anyone you don't bring with you can remain here to prevent more darkspawn from entering Denerim on our tails."

"How are we going to fight a dragon? Can't it just fly away?" I asked, cringing as another roar made the air shudder with its force.

"We're going to need to reach a high point in the city…" Riordan answered. "I'm thinking the top of Fort Drakon might work."

"The top of…? You want to draw the dragon's attention?" Alistair asked. We looked at one another – we weren't exactly eager to face another dragon head-on, but I supposed we didn't have much choice in the matter.

"We have little choice, though I warn you that as soon as we engage the beast it will call all its generals to help it," Riordan cautioned. "I can sense two generals in Denerim. You may wish to seek them out before going to Fort Drakon."

"Ah, so that's what I can feel," I murmured – I had been sensing a strange power, stronger than the average darkspawn, but not as strong as the archdemon.

"I'm sure that if we did slay those generals, it would stop the darkspawn in the city from doing a lot of harm!" Leliana chimed in, and I nodded slightly.

"If they're going to help the archdemon, I guess that would be best. Besides, killing those generals will save innocent lives," Alistair agreed.

"It may also waste resources trying to find them. The decision is up to you," Riordan finished, glancing back at me.

"Do you know where these generals are?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"I can sense them vaguely – the amount of darkspawn makes it hard to pinpoint them exactly – but I believe they are in the Alienage and Market District," he replied, closing his eyes as he concentrated. "There are already several units of our allies within the city by now. They may be able to come to your assistance if you call them, but their strength will be limited. Now, who do you wish to take with you into the city?" I looked about our group, pursing my lips as I put us into parties in my head. _Put at least one mage, one rogue and one warrior in each group, and then sort out the rest,_ I thought.

"Duran, Jowan, you're with us," I began, indicating Alistair and me. "Sten, you take Leliana, Olan, Kajta and Morrigan and go after one of the generals in the Market District – bring the men from Redcliffe with you, half the Dwarves and mages, and a few of the halla riders," I said, and Sten nodded as his group moved to one side. "Oghren, you take Wynne, Zevran and Neria and protect the Alienage. Bring the rest of the mages and Dwarves, and the rest of the Dalish – seeing them will put some fight into the city Elves," I continued, and Oghren nodded, motioning for his team to move off to the other side. "Aedan, Selina, can you hold the gates with the forces from Highever and Dragon's Peak?" I asked.

"We won't let any more of them cross the line," Aedan replied.

"Ser Cauthrien," I called, and the woman nodded, "I want you to fall back and defend the palace with your men – protect the wounded," I ordered, and she saluted.

"Fair enough," Riordan said, looking over my choices. "Nothing you have done has prepared you for what you face now. May the Maker watch over you," he said, taking Alistair's and my hands and gripping our arms firmly before running off, making his way towards Fort Drakon.

I watched him go and let out a long sigh, looking up at Alistair. "Are you ready?" I whispered, and he nodded as we turned back to our companions.

Wynne walked up to me, placing her hands on my shoulders as she looked into my eyes. "So this is it then. All that we've been through has led up to this," she sighed, and I smiled weakly. "Whatever happens now…to either of us, know that I am proud – infinitely proud – to have called you friend," she said sincerely, wrapping her arms around me and patting my back. She turned to Alistair, her eyes widening as he hugged her, trying not to hurt her with his armor. "Take care of yourself, Alistair," she smiled warmly at the man, pinching his cheek affectionately. "Farewell, and may the Maker watch over you both."

As Wynne and Alistair were saying their goodbyes, Oghren walked over, stroking a hand over his braided beard. "So. This is it," he remarked, and I bowed my head.

"It has been an honor to fight with you, Oghren," I said, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

"Honor? Nobody's looked at me and seen honor in a long time, Warden," the Dwarf said. "You took in a drunken disgrace of an Orzammar warrior. You gave me a reason to fight and the will to keep going," he sighed, his eyes warm as he looked at me. "You helped me find the one woman in the sodding world who might put up with me, and you helped me get past Branka so I could have someone new. I owe you a lot, Warden," he clasped my arm tightly, "and I consider it a fine honor to die for you and your cause."

"The honor is mine, my friend," I replied with a grin, and he laughed.

"Then it's sodding honor for everyone. That's war for you," he said. He placed his axe on the ground before him, resting his hands on the top of the handle and bowing his head. "Let the stone turn red from the blood of heroes. Today I will be the warrior you taught me to be."

Katja walked over to me, glancing at Oghren as he had his moment, smirking. "Warrior caste," she chuckled, folding her hands lightly behind her back. "Well salroka, it's been nice knowin' ya," she teased, and I smiled.

"I've survived one dragon attack, already," I replied, and she shook her head, green eyes shining in the orange light.

"You and me, we're not so different," Katja said. "We've been kicked around our entire lives, but we haven't lost sight of the most important thing – hope," her voice was solemn as she spoke. "You watch yourself out there salroka – you're a diamond in the Deep Roads."

As she went to say goodbye to Alistair, Olan trotted over, and I knelt, hugging the mabari tightly. "Be a good boy while I'm gone, alright?" I asked, and he barked. "Protect the girls, and watch Sten's back." Olan nuzzled my cheek and gave me a big doggy kiss, his tail wagging as I laughed and mussed his ears affectionately.

Sten walked over, his eyes constantly scanning the battlefield – they were almost burgundy in the orange glow of the fires. "We have reached the battlefield at last," he remarked, and I chuckled at the Qunari's short words.

"Thank you for your help, Sten," I said, bowing my head to the man.

"I have done nothing," he replied. "You have carried us this far. Do not doubt that." The Qunari placed a hand on my shoulder, and I smiled, throwing myself into his arms. He seemed startled for a moment, and I felt him awkwardly return the hug. He returned to his place as he waited for the rest of his group to say their goodbyes, and I smiled as Leliana came over next.

"So, this is it…this is the end," she said softly, a sad smile on her lips as she took my hands in hers. "We've come so far. It's strange, knowing that all our fates will be decided in a matter of hours," she added. "I wish I could go with you."

"It's for the best," I replied gently, and her grip tightened on my fingers.

"I respect your decision to keep me here, even though I would have gladly stood by your side, even to the death." Leliana threw her arms around my shoulders, and I smiled, shutting my eyes as I hugged her tightly. "You have been a true friend and I…" her voice was wavering as she fought back tears, "I will be extremely cross with you if you…don't return," she added softly, and I chuckled. "Be careful out there. I will see you soon."

Neria came over to me next, pulling me into a bear-hug before she even spoke. "Lethallan," she sighed, "my little tabby-cat." She placed her hands on either side of my face, kissing my forehead. "You're the little sister I always wished for," she grinned, patting my cheeks, "so come back safe, or I'll call the Dread Wolf himself to drag you back out of the Fade," she added sternly, and I grinned.

"I love you too, Neria," I smiled, hugging her again as she wiped a tear from her cheek, running over to Alistair and slapping him hard across the back, complaining when his armor hurt her hand. Zevran chuckled as he watched her, coming over to me and taking my hands, his amber eyes sad as he looked at me.

"So here we part ways. You do not wish me to stand by you, in the end?" he asked, and I smiled gently.

"I don't want to put you in that kind of danger," I replied, "especially now that you have someone who will throttle me if you're hurt," I added, and he chuckled.

"Oh, _now_ you worry about my health!" the assassin grinned. "In truth, for a true friend such as yourself, I would gladly storm the Black City itself. Do not doubt it," he murmured sincerely, raising my hands to his lips and kissing my knuckles. "Let me wish you well, and may we shake hands again in victory when all of this is done."

Jowan wrung his hands nervously as he looked up at the sky, walking over to me as Zevran said farewell to Alistair. "Adeline, I know this isn't goodbye, but…" he began, taking a long breath, "I wanted to thank you. For everything." He awkwardly wrapped his arms around my shoulders, and I smiled at his nervousness, pulling the gangly mage into a hug. "You trusted me when no one else did – you gave me a second chance. A new life – for that, I am eternally grateful." He trotted over to where Duran was waiting, and the Dwarf chuckled at his nervousness, patting the young man on the back.

Morrigan strode regally over, her expression slightly annoyed. "After all that? I will not be going with you?" she huffed, and I shook my head.

"In your delicate condition?" I asked, and she chuckled, crossing her arms.

"I would still see this to the end, but so be it," she relented. "Let us part ways now. You go your way, to your destiny, and I go my way, to mine."

"Thank you. For everything," I said. Morrigan smiled at me, then, a bright, beautiful smile, her eyes filled with something I had never seen before – love.

"I did not know what it meant to have a friend, once. But you I would gladly consider such," she murmured, taking my hands and giving my fingers an encouraging squeeze. "Go, slay your archdemon. Live gloriously, my friend."

She joined her group, and the others headed off, waving to Alistair and me once more. Alistair walked over to me, taking one of my hands as we looked up towards Fort Drakon. "So this could be it. Soon this will be finished, one way or another," he remarked, and my grip tightened on his.

"I love you, Alistair," I murmured, and he smiled gently at me.

"And I love you, always," he replied. Suddenly, we didn't care that we were in the middle of a battlefield, that hundreds of soldiers were watching us, that the Blight was crashing down on our heads; Alistair took my face in his hands and kissed me, and I held onto him, terrified that if I let him go now, I would wake up and find that everything that had happened since that fateful night, so long ago, had been a terrible, wonderful dream.

Our group marched down a line of soldiers, making a path towards Fort Drakon, and the men saluted us, cheering and whistling as we went. I grinned as we reached the end of the line, looking up the darkspawn-filled path towards Drakon, and I let out a wild cry, raising my saber above my head as I challenged the archdemon. "Let's go kick some ass!" I shouted and the others grinned at my enthusiasm, running at my heels as I led the way.

oOo

The Market District was abandoned, and Sten moved carefully through the destruction with his party, mixed Dwarves and Redcliffe infantry moving in groups with mages at their centers, and small bunches of mounted Dalish lancers and archers. Olan stood by the Qunari's side, and the mabari snarled, the short fur on his back bristling as his growls rose in volume. The halla snorted and pawed the ground in agitation as their ears went back, and a Dalish scout brought a hunting-horn to his lips as he stood atop a nearby building, sending out a bellowing warning to the forces below.

The ground rumbled beneath everyone's feet as the darkspawn came around the corner of a building – two ogres, headed by an ogre Alpha, stomped into sight. Swarming around their feet were the hunch-backed shapes of dozens of shrieks, who screeched and chattered when they spotted the approaching army.

Sten held up a hand as the darkspawn came to a halt, and he locked eyes with the ogre Alpha. The creature let out a low snarl as it straightened its back, looking down at the Qunari with black, beady eyes. It barked out something to the ogre next to it, and the creature growled, wrenching a burning chunk of wood from a nearby building and hurling it straight at Sten. Morrigan and the other mages blasted the debris out of the air, and Sten let out a fearsome war cry, lowering his hand in a swift, chopping motion for his men to charge – the darkspawn stood no chance.

oooo

"Neria?" Shianni gasped as she gripped the rickety old bow she had managed to find. She ran towards the Dalish woman and clasped her arm in greeting. "Oh, am I glad to see you! The Alienage is under attack!" she cried, pointing to the gates. There were darkspawn swarming them from the other side, and the rumbling steps of an ogre could be heard as it approached the wooden barricade – once the massive darkspawn started its attack, the gates wouldn't last long.

"Shianni, why hasn't the place been evacuated?" Neria cried, spotting Soris gripping his crossbow nervously as he kept an eye on the gate. He swore as a shriek managed to scale the blockage, and fired, shooting the darkspawn in the forehead. It fell back with a scream, and Oghren let out a hearty laugh at Soris's startled look, patting the nervous Elf on the back.

"The regent _started_ evacuating, but only about half of the residents got out before the darkspawn overwhelmed the garrison – we had to fall back and block ourselves in," Shianni explained, stiffening as she spotted the Dalish Elves nearby. She had only ever seen pictures of halla before – to call the noble beasts beautiful wouldn't do them justice. The other city Elves had similarly awed expressions; many had thought that the Dalish were still a myth, even after meeting Neria.

"Get as many of your archers to higher ground as you can," Neria said, and Shianni nodded, running off.

"Alright, get into line!" Oghren ordered, indicating the Dwarves and soldiers from Redcliffe. "Once those gates break, the pike-twirlers and their antler beasts are going to charge in there – no clumsy darkspawn has a hope of catching them," he began, and a few of the Dalish scowled with indignance at the nickname. "The rest of you will hold the line, and keep the Blighters from setting foot into the Alienage – I don't want the boss's home burned down on my watch."

Zevran had been keeping lookout from a nearby rooftop, keeping out of sight as he scoured the darkspawn swarm for their general. A tall hurlock emissary stood towards the back of the group, and Zevran gave a series of quick, piercing whistles, calling a pair of Dalish scouts to his side. "That is the one to aim for – it is their leader," he pointed out the darkspawn, and the scouts narrowed their eyes, nodding and slipping back down to ground-level, spreading the word and warning the others of the mage.

"Steady!" Oghren roared above the noise as the ogre began bashing at the barricade. Screeching shrieks started climbing over the walls, but the Dalish and city Elf archers worried at them with swarms of arrows, turning their bows to the sky and firing in wide arcs over the barricade. The agonized screams of more darkspawn echoed through the streets as they fell to the rain of arrows.

The ogre continued to crash into the wooden gates, sending small splinters raining down on the street as it rammed at the blockage. Deep cracks ran up the old wooden planks, and the ogre ran at them one more time, smashing through with a great heave, wooden boards getting stuck on its curled horns as the darkspawn bellowed.

The Dwarves and Redcliffe soldiers descended upon the darkspawn, blocking the swarm's path as the halla riders bounded past, dodging gracefully through the writing creatures as they charged straight towards the hurlock emissary. A rider braced himself as his halla neared the beast, and the emissary screeched with surprise at the speed of the halla's approach – the darkspawn found itself dangling in the air, impaled upon a shining, silverite lance.

oOo

We ran through the Palace District when I saw it – the archdemon flying low over the rooftops, spraying purple fire from its terrible maw as it snapped at something. A tiny shape was clinging to the slanted roof of a tower, and Alistair swore – we could sense Riordan's taint. The man leapt from the roof, catching onto the net that had tangled on the spines of the archdemon's tail, and he clung to the dragon as it bellowed with rage.

"He's going to get himself killed!" Jowan exclaimed as he stared into the sky, and I nodded in silent agreement, too stunned to speak. I flinched as the dragon did a barrel-roll, trying to dislodge Riordan, who just barely managed to cling onto a spike. He crawled his way up the dragon's back, and I gasped, covering my mouth as he leapt from its back to one of its wings.

The Grey Warden stabbed his sword deep into the archdemon's shoulder, sliding down the length of the wing as the dragon _screamed_ – that sound alone would haunt my nightmares for years, I was sure. The beast flapped its wings wildly as it tried to keep to the sky, but the damage had been done; it collided with a tower of the Royal Palace – I saw a flash of color among the stones and thought I heard a scream – before flapping towards Fort Drakon.

"No!" Alistair shouted, gritting his teeth – Riordan had been dislodged from the archdemon's wing, and fell like a stone towards the ground, hundreds of feet below. We ran towards the place he had landed, and Alistair covered his mouth, putting an arm around my shoulders and turning me away from the gruesome sight. I shivered as Jowan murmured something, burning the remains of the older Grey Warden, and Alistair gripped my hand tightly. "In War, Victory," he whispered.

"In Peace, Vigilance," I continued.

"In Death, Sacrifice."

oooo

I felt the darkspawn generals fall as we made our way through Fort Drakon, glancing at Alistair as he nodded slightly. We came ever nearer to the archdemon, and men who had been holding the fort thanked us as we battled the darkspawn – the place had been overwhelmed, but our distraction had been enough for the soldiers to turn the tide.

We skidded to a halt on a floor near the top of the tower, staring about in confusion – the room was drenched in blood, with the bodies of darkspawn strewn everywhere; in the center of the mess stood Sandal Feddic. " _Sandal!?_ " I exclaimed, trotting over to him. "What happened here?" I asked, waving around the room.

The Dwarf cocked his head and grinned. "Enchantment!" he replied, and I made a face looking down at the dead bodies of darkspawn.

"You…uh…be careful now, alright?" I said, and Sandal nodded.

"Enchantment!" he laughed, running down the hall and out of the room. We stared at one another in confusion before continuing to the stairs. There were screams from the ceiling as we reached the top floor, and we froze as we came to the rooftop.

The archdemon was crawling along the ground, its wing wounded and bleeding profusely, but with little other injury. We watched as it breathed fire on a nearby pair of guards, who had been trying to aim a ballista at it, and it stepped on a man with a wounded leg as he tried to crawl away, crushing him to death under its claws. Arl Eamon and First Enchanter Irving were there, distracting the beast as more soldiers worked the ballistae, firing the giant bolts at it, but the dragon flapped its wings weakly, leaping out of the way as it sprayed fire into the air.

My breath hitched into my throat as the archdemon hissed, slowly turning its head to look and Alistair and me. A low humming filled the air, and I scowled – the creature was trying to turn us against our allies with its voice. Alistair and I shook off the sound as we charged, screaming blood and hellfire as the dragon bellowed. Duran pulled what looked like a ceramic jar from his pocket and tossed it to Jowan, who threw it into the sky with magic – it exploded, sending colored sparks out into the air, as if signaling someone.

Alistair and I distracted the archdemon as Jowan and Irving covered us with protective spells – the dragon seemed to be resistant to most of their spells, so the two focused on supporting us. Eamon rallied the remaining men on the roof as they took to the ballistae, firing at the archdemon; now that it was distracted, it was having a harder time dodging out of the way. Its left flank was pierced by a bolt, as was its throat, just above the left shoulder. The dragon roared and blew fire at the soldiers, but Jowan threw a barrier over them, blocking most of its spells.

"Alistair!" I cried as the archdemon swung its tail around, throwing the man off his feet. His head hit the ground as he tumbled and he blacked out; I swore, running out in front of the dragon and whistling, clanging my blades together as Duran dragged Alistair a safe distance away. I leapt back as a gout of fire scorched the ground where I had been standing a moment before, and I looked up as I heard alarmed yells – Duran and Jowan had been surrounded by darkspawn that streamed up from the tower, answering the archdemon's summons.

I wanted to run to them, but I had to hold the archdemon's attention – if I didn't keep it busy, we would die for certain. I tried to use Charm to keep the dragon focused on me, but it didn't seem to work as effectively as it had on the high dragon back at Haven. _So long as I keep it distrac–_ my thought was cut off as the dragon whipped its tail around again, catching me full in the stomach before I had a chance to duck. I was thrown clear, slamming hard against the stone floor and bouncing, rolling dangerously close to the broken edge of the rooftop.

I lay there for a few moments, winded, and I cried out as I tried to stand – something inside of me was broken, or ruptured; I curled into a ball and screamed into my arms as I covered my head, the archdemon breathing fire at me. I glanced up to see Jowan standing over me, holding a ward up to dissipate the flames. He cast a mild healing spell on me – more so I could get back on my feet than to actually heal me – and I struggled to stand, my knees knocking together as my entire body shrieked for me to stop moving.

I stared at the rooftop with mixed excitement and disbelief – while I was down, the Legion of the Dead had come to our aid, and was now holding off the darkspawn that had attacked us earlier. Kardol and Duran were battling back-to-back, their battle-axes flashing dark red in the ruddy light of sunset. Alistair had gotten back on his feet, and was charging the archdemon's flank as the dragon was distracted by more fire from the ballistae.

I took a deep breath and channeled my remaining strength into my legs, running at the archdemon at top speed, leaping onto its tail and running up the spined back, using the spikes on its neck like rungs on a ladder as I climbed up to the head. I sheathed my daggers and raised Claíomh Solais over my head, stabbing into the archdemon's jaw as it shook its head to throw me off, sliding down the beast's throat and tearing a gaping line into the neck as I reached the ground, pouring boiling blood all over me. I was choking in the vile liquid, drowning in it, and I felt strong hands dragging me out from under the archdemon's neck as it crashed down on the stones. The dragon gurgled and growled weakly as it struggled to stay alive – with a final strike, Alistair buried Caladbolg deep into the archdemon's skull.

Flashing lights erupted from the dragon's head, and Alistair and I stared at the creature in horror – had Morrigan's ritual failed? I screamed his name as Alistair struggled to release his grip on the sword, but it was as if an invisible power were holding him there, forcing him to be the sacrifice. The light was blinding; everything was blotted out by the intensity, and I thought I might have blacked out for a few minutes – when I came-to, I was lying on my back, staring up at the boiling grey-brown clouds that covered the bloody sunset.

I slowly sat up, immediately regretting it as a jolt of pain lanced through me, and I cried out, gritting my teeth. I stared at the dead archdemon, my face paling as I saw Caladbolg sticking from the skull, but no Alistair. "Alistair!" I shouted, hoping – _praying_ – that he was alright. I jumped when I heard a soft, pained chuckle beside me, and I looked to my left; Alistair had been laid out on a tarp next to me, too exhausted to move.

"I'm here, Adeline, don't worry," he assured me as I sighed, laying back down.

"You bastard – I thought you died for a second there," I complained, and he grinned, slowly reaching out and placing his hand over mine. I turned my hand over and twined my fingers with his, letting out a relieved sigh.

"We made it," he breathed. "We actually killed the archdemon and lived…"

We glanced up as Duran and Jowan approached, grinning at us like a pair of children, both covered from head to toe in darkspawn and archdemon blood – they must have been the ones to drag me out from under the dragon's neck, I assumed. "Glad to see you both made it," Duran remarked, crossing his arms and glancing up at Jowan.

"As am I," Jowan added. The pair knelt next to us – we were too exhausted to even sit up for long – and Jowan began treating our wounds. Alistair insisted that I go first, despite my protests, arguing that I was the most battered of our group…which was true, I supposed.

"Easy, easy _easy_ **_easy_** _!_ " I yelped sharply as Jowan helped peel off my armor, the blood-soaked leather clinging to my shirt. I shuddered violently as I felt something shift inside of me, nearly vomiting at the feeling. "Oh Maker, something's definitely broken," I hissed through clenched teeth as Jowan placed his hands on my ribs, closing his eyes and letting magic seep into me to assess the damage. I let out a long, relieved breath as I felt him shift the ribs back into place. "Only treat what's life-threatening, though," I said. "I don't want you burning yourself out after that battle."

"Selfless to the end," Jowan teased, and I rolled my eyes at the mage. Once he had finished treating me, he moved on to Alistair and Duran. Duran took a few healing poultices for his flesh-wounds, once Jowan said that he didn't have any life-threatening injuries; trying to treat him with magic would wear on Jowan's mana reserves.

I glanced up as I saw First Enchanter Irving approaching us with Arl Eamon, the mage's eyes trained on Jowan, and I swore under my breath. He couldn't have picked a worse time to try and bring Jowan to 'justice' for his crimes. I struggled to sit up, letting out a sharp yelp of pain as my arms gave out, and Irving glanced at me. "Please, First Enchanter, don't–"

He sighed quietly, shaking his head and giving me a sad smile. "Peace, Grey Warden – I mean Jowan no harm," he assured me gently, and I lay back down, keeping my eyes trained on the man as he stood in front of Jowan. "Jowan," the First Enchanter said, and the mage flinched slightly at his name, glancing down.

"Er…yes, First Enchanter?" he asked nervously, and the older man let out a soft breath.

"I believe that I owe you an apology," he said, and Jowan stared at him with round eyes – he hadn't been expecting that, evidently. "You turned to blood magic because the Circle failed you. Because _I_ failed you. I…gave up on you without truly trying to understand your struggles," his voice was low and apologetic. "Selina was always protective of you, but perhaps her sheltering, and my negligence, influenced your decisions," the First Enchanter knelt next to Jowan, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. "While you are a blood mage, you are also under the protection of the Grey Wardens. Should you choose to…disappear, know that I will attempt to suggest against further pursuit," Irving finished, and Jowan looked taken aback at the speech – he didn't seem to know how to respond.

"I-I…thank you, First Enchanter. I know that what I've done cannot be forgiven…but I can put my skills to use helping others," Jowan stammered out, and Irving smiled gently at the young man.

"It is ironic, I suppose, that you have made me more proud now, than if you had stayed within the confines of the tower," the First Enchanter chuckled slightly. "Now, perhaps we should aid the king and the Warden-Commander to an infirmary – you have taken too many lyrium potions as it is," he added, and Jowan nodded. He and Duran helped Alistair and me down from the roof of Fort Drakon, taking slow, careful steps – we were nearly carried between some of the soldiers as we struggled to walk.

As soon as we left the fort, we were surrounded by runners from the different armies scattered through the city, asking for orders – the darkspawn were scattered, now that the Archdemon was slain, and the armies wanted to know what to do once they were defeated. Before I could open my mouth, Alistair had issued commands to each of them, telling more runners to send word that the archdemon was dead, to set up more infirmaries and temporary shelters around the city, and to signal the evacuation ships as soon as the city was clear of darkspawn. I looked at Alistair with pride, grinning up at him as I blacked out, feeling Duran catch me and hearing someone shouting for a stretcher.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Next time: Last chapter, followed by a short epilogue


	55. Chapter 55: Aftermath

Chapter 55

Aftermath

Disclaimer – I do not own Dragon Age or any of its characters

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Stop _pushing!"_ a gruff voice complained.

"But I want to make sure she's alright," an Orlesian accent caught my attention.

"I am not sure what good you would do, my dear," a suave Antivan voice cut in.

"Andraste's mercy, will you stop crowding her?" a gentle voice was turning stern with annoyance.

"But Alistair said to watch her," the Orlesian voice argued.

"I believe the healers are all that're required," a thin, male voice replied, followed by a low sound of complaint.

Something was sniffing around by my hand, and gave a plaintive whine as it licked my fingers. I let out a soft groan – I was sore all over, but not in excruciation pain. I blinked a few times, letting out a soft breath and looking around as my vision cleared. The smiling, relieved faces of my companions greeted me, and I chuckled as I tried to sit up.

"Aw, were you worried about me?" I asked teasingly. My face went white as a wave of nausea rolled over me, and I felt a cold sweat wash over my skin.

"Don't move – you're still weak from the battle," Wynne warned, gently pressing me back into the pillows. I looked around the room – it was one of the lavish guest-rooms in the Royal Palace.

"What…happened after I collapsed?" I asked.

"We drove those sorry Blighters out of the city, that's what," Oghren chuckled.

"When the archdemon was killed, we saw a huge tower of light from the top of fort Drakon," Leliana described. "It exploded outward, and something in the darkspawn seemed to snap – they started fleeing the city, and we picked them off until barely a score escaped."

"Is everyone alright? You've had your injuries seen to?" I asked, looking around at them. They were all chuckling and smiling at me, and Wynne gently patted my cheek.

"The four of you who fought the archdemon were the worst off – the rest of us are fine," she assured me, and I let out a soft sigh of relief.

"Alistair ordered us to keep you in bed," Neria remarked. "He knew that as soon as you woke, you'd try to get up."

I chuckled weakly, letting out a soft breath. "Oh, trust me, I'm not going anywhere," I assured them, and Wynne pulled the covers to my chin as my eyelids began to droop.

"Sleep well," Wynne murmured as I drifted off.

oooo

When I woke next, the room was dark – the only light was the soft glow of a candle on the nightstand. I took in a deep breath, glancing to the side of the bed and finding Alistair propped up against it, his head resting on the mattress as he gently held my right hand. I smiled slightly, watching him as he slept – he looked worn out; I wondered if he had gotten a wink of sleep since the battle. _How long_ _ **was**_ _I out for, anyway?_ I wondered, letting out a sigh. I ran my thumb gently along the back of Alistair's hand, and he began to stir.

"…Adeline?" he asked softly, blinking up at me through sleepy eyes.

"Yes, my love?" I replied, and a broad grin spread across his face. He stood, leaning over the bed and gathering me up in his arms, burying his nose in my hair as he kissed my cheeks and along my jaw. He sat down on the edge of the bed, holding me as tightly as he could without hurting me, and I shut my eyes, nuzzling against his throat and listening to his heartbeat under my cheek.

"Maker's breath…I'm so glad you're alright…" he breathed, kissing my forehead as I looked up at him. "For…for a little while, I wasn't sure…" he admitted softly.

"Were my injuries worse than what we thought?" I asked, and he chuckled.

"No, but a man worries about his wife," Alistair replied, resting his cheek against the top of my head. "You were out for three days," he informed me. "It…was almost like the Wilds, all over again…" his eyes were distant, and he raised one of my hands to his lips, kissing the knuckles.

"You…stayed with me then, too, didn't you?" I asked, and he nodded slightly.

"I only left whenever Flemeth ordered me out – I was afraid you'd…die, and I wouldn't be there for you," he admitted, and I smiled, kissing his cheek.

"Maker's breath, I didn't think I could love you any more than I already did," I chuckled, slowly wrapping my arms around his neck, kissing his chin and poking the tip of his nose with mine. He grinned, pressing his forehead against mine in return.

"I will stand by your side until we both return to the Fade," he vowed, his lips brushing gently against mine. I rubbed my fingers back along his neck and over his shoulders, feeling the tension there and looking up at him.

"You should get some sleep," I said, nodding towards the bed, and Alistair chuckled, pulling me onto his lap and patting my thigh.

"I've been so busy…" he groaned good-naturedly. "They never told me that being king involved so much _paperwork_."

I smirked, hugging him tightly. "You'll be a good king, love," I assured him.

"Mmm…" he sighed, flopping back on the bed as I lay on his chest, running my hand gently along his jaw as he held the small of my back.

"Here, roll over," I said as I sat up, sliding off him and poking his side. He raised an eyebrow as I tugged at his shirt. "You need a massage," I explained. He sat up and pulled his shirt off, smiling slightly as he lay on his stomach.

"Alright, but I'll have to do the same for you again, one of these days – you still look worn out from the battle," he replied, letting out a sigh as my hands moved over his muscled back, working away the tension in his shoulders.

"I look worse than I feel, honestly. But I'll hold you to that," I chuckled, kissing a small mole on his right shoulder. "So when's the coronation?" I asked, and he smiled, closing his eyes as he rested his cheek on his arms.

"Next month," he replied. "Eamon suggested that we clear out the city of darkspawn, and have the coronation as soon as possible – that way, I can oversee the rebuilding of Denerim properly as king," Alistair explained, and I nodded. We were quiet as I continued to work down his back, kissing the small birthmarks I found along his shoulder-blades, and down near his ribs. "Ah!" he exclaimed as my lips brushed across his side, and I smirked – I had forgotten that he was ticklish.

"Oh? What's this?" I teased, lightly trailing my fingers over the spot, dancing up and down his ribs as he laughed.

"Stop, stop!" he chuckled, grabbing my hands. I leaned forward and continued kissing him there, and he rolled over, pinning me between his chest and the mattress, holding me against him. I gave him a gentle peck on the lips, and he grinned, brushing the hair from my face and kissing my scar. "I love you, you know that?" he murmured, and I closed my eyes, resting my head against the sheets as I felt his hands sliding down my sides, resting on my hips.

"I love you too, Alistair," I replied as I felt him pause, unsure if I wanted him to continue. I slid my own fingers under his waistband, pushing it down, and he grinned as he helped me undress, kissing me gently as his hands moved tenderly over my skin.

oooo

The day of the coronation was hectic – it was a grand affair, with the entirety of Denerim crowding into the palace district, and flooding the Royal Palace. Alistair couldn't stand having servants fussing over him – he insisted that he could put on armor without help, but the serving girls simply giggled at the furious blush that colored his cheeks as they ignored his protests.

I leaned against the doorframe outside of the room, wearing my dark-blue armor – I could wear a dress later, but for now, with thousands of people watching me, I wanted to be the Warden-Commander, not some skinny Elf waif wearing fancy silks. The serving girls gossiped and giggled as they streamed out of the room, murmuring that they were jealous of whoever Alistair's queen would be. I poked my head into the chamber, smirking at the scarlet blush that colored his cheeks.

"What's that smug look for?" Alistair groaned, fingering one of his pauldrons. He was wearing the same armor he had worn during the Battle of Denerim, newly repaired by Wade. I stood on my toes and adjusted the gold cloak over his shoulder, patting his cheek teasingly.

"Nothing, nothing," I chuckled, turning slightly. Alistair wrapped his arms around my waist, kissing my hair and taking a deep breath, drinking in my scent. "Are you ready?" I asked softly, taking his hands, and he nodded; all his nervousness was now gone, replaced with confidence and determination.

oooo

I stood among our companions towards the front of the aisle – the coronation was held in the Landsmeet Chamber. The others greeted me as I arrived a few minutes before it began, and Leliana complained that I wasn't wearing the dress she had picked out for me. "Later," I promised her, and she gave me a look that said 'you'd better'.

The murmuring of the crowd died down as trumpets blared, and the doors of the chamber opened. First strode in a pair of Templars in full plate, walking before Grand Cleric Elemina. She took the stairs and stood regally before the gathered guests, her head held high. A dozen armored guards followed after them, lining the stairs and standing to attention.

The room fell silent as a single trumpet heralded Alistair's arrival. He walked slowly and deliberately down the center aisle, his head held high with a calm smile on his lips – he looked completely at ease. His eyes met mine as he took the stairs, and I smiled warmly, feeling tears prickling at my eyes; my heart was nearly bursting with pride – he had grown so much since we had met.

His expression became somber as he stood before the Grand Cleric, kneeling and bowing his head as she held out a hand, reciting a verse from the Chant of Light. She then turned, and a squire held up the crown on a velvet pillow. Alistair's eyes flashed with recognition, and I caught him glancing at me through the corner of his eye – I gave him a double tumbs-up when no one was looking, a crooked grin on my face. It was the Teyrn's crown, but I had had it modified before the coronation – it was a simple, but elegant design, not overly decorative or garish, but still regal.

The Grand Cleric placed the crown on his brow, and Alistair rose, bowing to her before turning and bowing to the rest of the gathered crowd. The hall erupted in fitful cheers and applause, and I grinned as Alistair looked over our company, his eyes bright with excitement. As the cheering died down, he cleared his throat, taking a step forward and motioning for our group to stand by the stairs. Alistair looked up, addressing the gathered crowd, his voice echoing through the room.

"My friends, we are gathered here to celebrate those responsible for our victory," he began, looking down at us with warmth in his eyes. "Of those who stood against the darkspawn siege of Denerim, there is one in particular who deserves commendation," he continued, his eyes meeting and holding mine. "The one who led the final charge against the archdemon remains with us still, an inspiration to all she saved that day."

Alistair motioned for me to join him, and I walked carefully up the stairs, my stomach rolling violently – I could feel the eyes of the crowd on my back, and I looked up at Alistair, who smiled gently back at me. At his look, my fear melted away, and I let out a soft, shaky breath. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the Hero of Ferelden, the first Grey Warden to defeat the Blight since Garahel four centuries ago," Alistair said, and my eyes widened in surprise.

As the crowd erupted in cheers, and I gave a nervous smile, I shot him a quick glare. "But _you_ struck the killing blow, not me," I hissed through my teeth, and he fought back a smirk.

"Being king's enough – your people deserve more Elven heroes," he replied, and I stared at him for a moment before regaining my composure, biting back a chuckle at his reasoning. He smiled gently, seeing the warmth in my eyes, and he took my hand, kissing the knuckles and bowing his head. "My friend," he continued, loud enough for the crowd to hear, "it is hard to imagine how you could have aided Ferelden more. I think it only appropriate that I return the favor."

He turned to face the crowd, motioning for a man to step forth, and I forced myself not to stare – it was my father, walking slowly towards the stairs. He stood before the king and bowed, and Alistair smiled at me, seeing the look of confusion in my eyes. "From this day forth, you, Cyrion Tabris, will be named the Arl of Denerim." At his words, the crowd erupted in mixed cheers and gasps of astonishment. The Elven servants looked shocked, and a few Elven ladies-in-waiting outright _fainted_ at the news. I struggled not to laugh with nervous excitement, and Dad was beaming from ear to ear.

Alistair continued once the crowd had settled down enough for his voice to be heard once more – a few people still murmured their outrage, but no one had to be escorted out, thankfully. "From now on, the Elves will have a permanent seat in the Landsmeet, both with Arl Cyrion Tabris, and Hahren Shianni Tabris, Elder of the Alienage," he continued, motioning for Shianni and Soris to join him. "The Tabris family will now be the first Elven nobles – I expect them to be treated with all the respect that their titles deserve," he added pointedly – no one in the Landsmeet Chamber missed the underlying implications of his speech. "As for you, Adeline Tabris," Alistair turned to face me, "for your aid, I offer you a permanent place in my council as Chancellor."

My eyes widened with surprise, and I bowed my head. "I accept your most generous offer, your grace," I replied, and Alistair smiled warmly at me. I returned to my place with my family as my other companions were given rewards for their aid – I barely heard the first two, I was still reeling from hearing that my family was now nobility. Aedan and Fergus were given the Teyrnirs of Highever and Gwaren, respectively, and the Dalish had been given the Korcari Wilds and Ostagar, in hopes of creating a permanent homeland.

oooo

My father found me soon after the coronation, in one of the reception rooms, and I grinned at him, leaping into his arms. "My, my. I almost don't recognize my own daughter," he chuckled, kissing my hair as he hugged me. "First a Grey Warden and now a great hero? And you've even given our people their own voice. I barely know what to think," he added, and I grinned. "I am awed, and so proud…if only your mother had lived to see this day," he sighed, and I took his hands, gripping them tightly.

"Are you all right? I haven't seen you since the Tevinter incident," I asked, and he nodded.

"I am better now that I have seen you again," he replied. "But never mind your old man. There is much for the hero of Ferelden to do today, yes? Go…I shall speak to you soon," he promised, kissing my forehead before leaving the room.

Shianni and Soris nearly ran at me, tackling me in a tight hug on either side and planting kisses all over my face. "Alright, alright, calm down," I chuckled, wheezing as they hugged me tighter.

"You made us nobility!" Shianni exclaimed. "I didn't even know that was possible!" she added, and I grinned, narrowing my eyes in pain and grimacing as they hugged me even tighter.

"Vision…fading…" I gasped, ragdolling in their arms, and the two grinned, grabbing me by the arms and legs and tossing me unceremoniously onto a nearby couch. "And it was Alistair, er, sorry, the _king_ , who did that – it was a surprise for me too," I admitted, and Shianni and Soris gave me knowing looks as they sat down on top of me. "Ow…sheesh," I groaned, shoving them off. "Armor doesn't stop you from getting _crushed_ , you know," I chuckled, sitting up before they tried anything else.

"Hmm…I remember you telling me that same exact thing," Alistair remarked. My cousins jumped to attention, and I grinned as I spotted Alistair leaning lightly against the doorframe, a wide smile on his face.

"We'll…leave you two alone," Soris remarked, tugging Shianni's hand. They smiled innocently as they fled the room, and I rolled my eyes as Alistair chuckled, joining me on the couch.

"So we made it. I'm impressed, aren't you?" he asked, resting an arm easily across the top of the couch as he sat down, and I sidled up to him, feeling him wrap his arm around my shoulders. "I was so scared that I might lose you, but…here you are. And here I am. Not bad, right?" he chuckled, and I smiled, leaning lightly against him. "I guess Morrigan was telling the truth after all. About the…ritual," he murmured. "The rest of the Grey Wardens haven't arrived yet from Orlais, but they've already sent…questions. What should I tell them?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"I wonder how they'd handle the truth," I mused, and he chuckled.

"That a maleficar saved you and then ran off to have my demon baby? That has a certain ring to it, right?" he grinned, and I laughed. "No, I suppose I'll just keep that to myself. I can shrug and look stupid – it's a talent," he added. "Speaking of Morrigan, do you know where she went? I'm told she vanished right after the battle. No good-byes or anything."

"She doesn't want to be followed," I replied, and Alistair stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"I'm just concerned about what that ritual is going to cost, eventually," he murmured. He let out a long sigh, taking off his crown and scratching his head. "At any rate, I can't wait to be alone with you. These formal affairs drive me insane," he added, planting a gentle kiss into my hair.

"Meet you upstairs later?" I whispered in a sultry tone, and his eyes flashed, his lips curling into a devilish grin.

"Oh, I'll be waiting, don't you worry," he chuckled. "I'll let you get to your adoring public. They want to see the hero of Ferelden, and who am I to keep them waiting?" he added, patting my back as we stood.

oooo

Leliana had convinced me – bullied me, really – into wearing the ornate gown she had picked out for the reception; it was green silk with gold trim, hanging off my shoulders and gently hugging my curves, with a matching pair of gold and green shoes. "I don't know…I feel… _exposed_ ," I complained as she helped lace up the back, tying my hair in a long, loose braid that hung over my shoulder.

"You'll get used to it," Leliana teased, patting my shoulder gently. She herself was wearing a sky-blue gown and a pair of blue suede shoes with amber beads on the toe. I followed her down the hall, meeting up with some of the others as we entered the ballroom. Huge buffet tables lined the edges of the hall, and crowds of people from all over Denerim, nobles and commoners alike, were present, celebrating Alistair's coronation.

"So here we are," Leliana smiled as we walked together through the crowd, linking arms so we wouldn't be separated. "The conquering heroine has won the day, and now she takes her bow and exits the stage. A fine ending," she grinned, and I patted her arm gently.

"You should be taking a bow with me – I couldn't have done this without your help. Without _everyone's_ help," I replied, and she chuckled.

"Oh, my part was small. I'm happy to watch you receive the accolades. It's quite fun," Leliana winked. "You know, I can't help now but think of my vision. Whether it was the Maker sending me to you, or whatever…it was a good thing. I thought I was supposed to save you, to show you the way…but it seems it was meant to be the other way around. Odd how that works, no?" she asked, and I turned around, hugging her tightly.

"I think you did plenty," I murmured, and she smiled.

"You're kind to say so, but I think we know who was in charge," she chuckled, patting my cheek affectionately. "I've been offered a position…to head up an investigation into the darkspawn. It's quite exciting, really," she continued, and I raised an eyebrow.

"An investigation?" I echoed, and she nodded.

"Well, we really don't know much about them, do we? Alistair says that we need to find out more, see how far they go in the Deep Roads, and where those broodmothers can be found. I agree," Leliana replied. "And Katja and Jowan are coming along as well, so you won't have to worry about me getting lonely. It will be a grand adventure of my very own! I'm looking forward to it," she added with a wink. "At any rate…you should enjoy the celebration. We can speak another time."

I watched Leliana disappear into the crowd, and I smiled, my eyes moving around the room to find my other companions. I spotted Oghren standing near a buffet table with Olan, swatting the dog away as the hound stood on his hind legs, trying to get at the food. "Olan, down," I said, and he whined. I made a face, ruffling his ears and plucking a small cube of cheese from a platter, tossing it to him. He gave a happy bark, his tail wagging as he nuzzled against my dress.

"Humans have a better taste for spirits than I thought," Oghren chuckled, taking a draught from a large mug of ale. "Heh. The ale up here is actually _good_. Orzammar ale tastes like dirt in comparison. Probably because they put dirt in it. Go figure," he snorted, and I grinned.

"Does that mean you're staying here?" I asked, and he shrugged, leaning an elbow against the table.

"Eh. For now. They may have already branded me a surfacer back home, anyhow," he replied. "I'm getting used to that big sky up there. And I'm thinking I might just look up Felsi again…see where that goes?" he added, and I nodded.

"I'm glad. I hope you two are happy," I said, and he chuckled, raising his mug.

"Ha! I'll drink to that!" he laughed, downing the rest of his ale in a few large draughts. "Ah, well! Enough babbling. That pot-bellied son of a whore Teagan said I'd pass out before drinking an entire barrel of pickle juice – I aim to prove him wrong," he added, and I smiled, taking his hand in mine.

"Take care of yourself, Oghren," I said warmly, and he chuckled.

"It's been good traveling with you, Adeline. Don't get lost in the shuffle, now," he replied, patting my back as he headed off to find Teagan. I plucked a glass of champagne from a passing serving tray, taking a small sip as I lingered near the buffet, keeping an eye on Olan. Wynne joined me, smiling warmly in greeting.

"The hero of Ferelden. My, my. How does it feel?" she asked, and I rolled my eyes.

"They could have thought up a better name – I didn't even strike the killing blow," I replied wryly, and the old mage chuckled.

"Alistair's idea, I understand. Which should explain much," she remarked, though not without affection, and I stifled a laugh, taking another sip of champagne. "But it's not so bad, is it? A Blight defeated with the other nations barely becoming aware. Who could ask for better?"

"I didn't do it on my own," I reminded her, and she smiled, taking my free hand gently and patting my knuckles.

"I don't think many heroes ever do," she replied knowingly. "I'm glad not to be on the receiving end of all this attention, myself," Wynne admitted. "I say let the young have their fame. Not that I've gone without notice; Irving asked me to take over as First Enchanter, but I don't wish to go back. Not after all this," Wynne sighed. "Instead, I've decided to accept a position here at court. There has not been a mage advising the throne for a very long time."

"Alistair asked you to stay?" I asked, and she nodded.

"He's a good lad, and his heart is in the right place. He wants to see the lot of mages improved, and I am willing to help him," Wynne's eyes were warm as she spoke, looking towards the head of the hall, where Alistair was dancing with Katja, the Dwarf grinning at the height difference as Alistair was forced to bend over as he danced. "It seems you and I will see each other in court, as well, Chancellor. I look forward to it," Wynne added. "For now, I imagine the hero of Ferelden still has much to do. Good luck!"

I watched her as Zevran slipped through the crowd, a smirk on his face as he asked the mage for a dance. She politely declined, and the Elf placed a hand over his heart, crestfallen. He walked over to me, offering a hand. "Care to dance, my friend? Or shall I be rejected again," Zevran asked, and I handed my glass to a servant, smiling charmingly as I took his hand.

"I'm afraid I'm not very good," I admitted as Zevran led me out to the floor, placing a gentle hand on the small of my back as we began a waltz.

"Fear not – I shall catch you if you stumble," he teased.

"My, how chivalrous," I chuckled, and he smiled.

"I will be relieved when all this pomp and ceremony is done," he remarked, nodding towards the crowded hall. I noticed that his eyes lingered on the large windows that lined the room, as if keeping watch for something. "Such events are perfect opportunities for assassins, after all. I can't help but expect the Crows to appear at any moment. Which would be a welcome break, mind you," he admitted with a laugh.

"You think the Crows will still come after you?" I asked, slightly wary. He patted my back, shrugging slightly.

"Eventually," he murmured. "With Taliesen dead, it may take them time to figure out what has happened…but they are like the tides. Predictable," he added. "You know, it does occur to me that staying in one place is only going to invite the Crows to find me that much quicker. While fun, that might eventually get…complicated. You said earlier that you were planning on remaining here. Is that true?" Zevran asked, and I nodded.

"Well…I _am_ going to be Chancellor," I reminded him, and he smiled, nodding slightly.

"And would you be in favor of my remaining with you? I've grown fond of you, you see. Sad, but true," he said melodramatically.

"I suppose I can convince dearest Alistair to make you his Spymaster – Ferelden's spy network is…nonexistent, as it stands," I teased, and Zevran chuckled.

"Then let the Crows bring it on. I can mock them while you crush their skulls. It's the sort of thing that made us friends, after all. Brings a tear to the eye, really," he said, sniffing and wiping at his eyes. "Well, then. Since I am sticking around, I suppose we'll have plenty of time to speak later, yes? So go on and get paraded about. It is fun to watch," he added, bowing as we finished our dance. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on you and make sure no one gets a clear shot. Not without paying me a great _deal_ of coin, anyhow," he joked, and I rolled my eyes, smirking as he disappeared into the crowd.

I found Sten standing a bit awkwardly off to the side of the room, trying not to laugh as I noticed the tiny glass of champagne in his hand. He didn't look _unhappy_ …but I wasn't sure _what_ his expression was, honestly. He glanced up at my approach, nodding slightly. "It is good to see you again, kadan," he greeted.

"Hello, Sten," I replied.

"These people…they call you 'hero'. It is a strange word, but I think I understand its meaning," he remarked. "The arishok on occasion has declared a Qunari to be Qunoran Vehl, one who serves as an example to others," he explained. "Such examples are always made after their death, however. A death in service to the Qun. A living Qunoran Vehl would be too proud."

"Do the Qunari celebrate and put on parades?" I asked, smiling slightly.

"When a Qunoran Vehl is declared, certainly," he replied. "It is one of few occasions when the Qunari are permitted to engage in…revelry. There is imbibing of spirits, public chanting, meditations abandoned…it is madness," he almost shuddered at the thought, and I chuckled softly.

"That would be quite a sight," I admitted – I truly couldn't imagine it.

"It is…interesting. It can take days for the Ben-Hassrath to restore order. There may even be executions," he described. He was quiet for a few moments before looking back at me. "I suppose I should tell you…I have decided to return to my people. Your quest is done, and thus so is my reason for accompanying you," he said.

"That will be a long trip home. Will you be alright?" I asked gently, and he nodded slightly.

"Yes. It will be difficult to travel alone after…so much time spent with companions," he admitted. "It must be said: You found my sword and gave me a chance to restore my honor. I owe you a great debt," he bowed his head.

"You helped me, as well. It's been good traveling with you," I replied, offering a hand. He took my fingers in his, my hand lost in his.

"It has. That one of the bas…a foreigner…would become known as kadan to me? Unthinkable. Yet here it is," he murmured. "Perhaps I shall see you again one day. Until then, may you always find the path you seek. Farewell, kadan," Sten said, bidding me farewell as he left the hall – I supposed that he had had enough revelry for one night.

I walked through the crowded hall, looking for Alistair – I hoped that he wasn't getting attacked by adoring lords trying to throw their daughters at him. A gentle hand tapped my shoulder, and I turned to find Arl Eamon behind me, a warm smile on the Arl's face as he asked me to dance.

"It is over. I can barely believe it. You stopped the civil war and then defeated the Blight. On behalf of Ferelden, allow me to say thank you. It truly cannot be said enough," Eamon thanked me as we danced – I was careful not to step on his toes as we moved through the other dancers.

"I'm a Grey Warden. That's what we do," I winked, and he chuckled.

"So I'm learning," he replied. "It's good that you're staying here in the capital. The hero of Ferelden will have influence, and there is much to be done," he added.

"What will you do, Arl Eamon?" I asked, and he shrugged slightly.

"Myself, I will be returning to Redcliffe. There is much to rebuild there…and since you are to be Chancellor, there is no need for me to remain," he answered. "Connor seems well enough, but Isolde…she does not wish to go back. I may yet leave the land to Teagan, in fact," he murmured, more to himself than to me. "I…cannot thank you enough for saving them. They are the joy of my existence," he said, his eyes sincere as he looked back at me. "But here I am rambling on. I shall let you get back to your celebration, Adeline. Enjoy it while you can."

I smiled as I watched him go, finding Isolde, who was smiling and dancing with Connor, teaching him how to waltz. I stood there with a small, content smile on my face, letting out a long sigh. _This…this is what makes everything worth it,_ I thought, looking around at the cheerful guests, feeling warmth go through me at their smiling faces.

I moved through the crowd and out to the hall, glancing back as I spotted Alistair through the sea of faces. He was laughing and smiling with Teagan, Katja, Aedan and Fergus as they watched Oghren chugging a barrel of pickle-juice. The Dwarf finished it off and slammed the barrel down, grinning smugly at Teagan before his eyes rolled back in his head, and he passed out. I chuckled softly, shaking my head and heading out into the hall, taking off my shoes as I walked towards the palace's gardens.

Fireflies darted about the flowers, and I strolled through the cool summer grass, soothing my aching feet – the heels Leliana had picked for me were very pretty, but rather painful to stand in for so long. I dropped the shoes by the foot of a bench, sitting down by a pair of rose bushes. There were many varieties of flowers in the gardens, but roses dominated the grounds, coming in every color and variety, their warm scent permeating the air.

"I was wondering when you'd try to escape," Alistair chuckled as he joined me, walking over and sitting down on the bench beside me. I smiled, leaning against him as he wrapped an arm around my waist.

"Sorry," I apologized softly, "I still don't do so well with crowds," I admitted, and he smiled gently, kissing my hair.

"That's fine, love," he whispered. He glanced down at my feet, spotting the blisters by my ankles and frowning.

"Hmm…Leliana didn't warn me about that," I sighed, stretching my legs out in front of me, cooling my heels in the grass.

"Does it hurt to walk?" he asked, and I shook my head.

"Only when I wear shoes," I replied, getting to my feet. "I just realized – we haven't even danced yet," I said, and Alistair stood, taking my hands.

"Don't force yourself if your feet hurt," he murmured, and I snorted.

"Alistair, I had far worse blisters while we were traveling," I chuckled, standing on my toes and kissing him.

He wrapped his arms around me, pressing his forehead against mine as he began humming softly. I smiled up at him as we danced, and I closed my eyes, resting my cheek against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat as we danced the night away.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Stay tuned for the epilogue!


	56. Epilogue: Ashes are Burning

Epilogue

Ashes are Burning

[Six years after Ashes to Ashes]

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Leliana and Katja had been traveling across Thedas for five years now; they had become as close as sisters in their many adventures and misadventures. Jowan had returned to Denerim a few months after they had begun their expedition into the Deep Roads – he had claimed that he had made a breakthrough in his research into the taint, and needed to get his results to Wynne and Adeline as soon as possible. After a year underground, Leliana passed on leadership of the expedition to Duran, who had been happy to help.

The pair of rogues were now headed back to Ferelden to visit their old friends, and to investigate a rumor they had heard on the Orlesian border – that the King had produced an heir about a year after their departure. Traveling to Denerim, they also heard that the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, Adeline Tabris, had handed her title to a more experienced Grey Warden from Orlais, who would be the acting Warden-Commander until the Order had been rebuilt, using the Arling of Amaranthine as their headquarters.

The pair met Neria at the Palace gates, who greeted them with an excited smile at their surprise visit. "I thought that Grey Warden's weren't supposed to be able to produce children," Leliana remarked as they strolled at an easy pace towards the palace, and Neria gave a knowing wink.

"It's not my place to say…but I believe that the King's new court wizard, Ser Levyn, found a solution to that problem," Neria remarked and Katja glanced up at her, cocking her head.

"Levyn? You mean Jowa…oh. I see," she realized, and Neria nodded. "So he helped Alistair conceive a child with magic?" she guessed, and Neria shook her head.

"I was thinking of a more…permanent solution. And one for _both_ of our Grey Wardens," she elaborated.

"He…found a _cure?_ " Leliana gasped, keeping her voice low, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Yes. He has shared his findings with the acting Warden-Commander as well, but the man has advised against spreading the news – if word got out that Grey Wardens are what they are because of the taint, recruitment rates would plummet. However, Levyn's written thorough directions for the remedy, claiming that it is a cure for the Blight sickness. Many who have been tainted but don't want to, or are unable to join the Grey Wardens can now be healed," Neria explained.

"That's wonderful news," Katja grinned. She glanced to her left as she spotted the familiar, lithe form of Zevran coming out of what looked like a back closet. He tucked an ornate key into his pocket before glancing over the group, a wide grin on his face.

"Ah, I come from my office to find not one, but three lovely ladies awaiting my return," he chuckled, walking over and clasping Katja and Leliana's hands as they greeted him.

"Your office? Alistair gave you a _broom closet_ to operate out of?" Katja chuckled, and Zevran winked.

"I _am_ known for doing a remarkably clean job," the assassin quipped, and Neria laughed, pinching his cheek affectionately.

" _Technically_ , my dear Zevran doesn't exist. Or rather, his title doesn't; Alistair's named him the Royal Spymaster," Neria explained, and Zevran looped an arm around the woman's waist.

"Now now, you cannot go spilling _all_ of my secrets, mi amor," the Elf teased, planting an affectionate kiss on the Elf woman's cheek. Leliana noticed now that on Neria's right ear hung a small, jeweled earring – the very same one that Zevran had always worn. She also noticed the slight bulge under the woman's loose-fitting dress, smiling slightly as she imagined Zevran as a father. _That will be quite the sight,_ she thought, biting back a chuckle at the image.

"So what's been going on with my favorite bunch of top-siders since we've been traveling?" Katja asked curiously as the group continued down the hall, Zevran joining them.

"Well…Oghren joined the army in Amaranthine, where the Order of the Grey is headquartered; he's a general now, but he comes to visit us when he's in Denerim now and then. Levyn became the court wizard after Wynne retired. He's even _married_ now – says his wife's a girl he was sweet on in the tower, back at the Circle," Neria explained.

"Ah, I remember he told me about that once," Leliana recalled, thinking of Lily. "I'm glad they've found each other," she smiled.

"No one's heard from Morrigan since the Battle of Denerim – Adeline says she probably doesn't want to be found," Neria continued, "and Sten left for his homeland, and has sent the occasional letter to Adeline," she added, letting out a small sigh. "Wynne…was laid to rest not long ago, sadly, but she seemed content – she said that she could finally rest, now that everyone was safe. And she got to see the little prince as well, before she returned to the Beyond," Neria murmured, and at the mention of the prince, Leliana and Katja glanced at her with curiosity.

"So Alistair really _did_ have a son. He's married now?" Leliana asked, a hint of concern in her eyes.

"Yes – he was quite adamant about that," Zevran replied.

"But…what about Adeline? Is…she his mistress or something?" Leliana added in a lower voice. The pair of Elves glanced at one another, seeming to find great amusement in the woman's words. The bard raised an eyebrow curiously, and Zevran chuckled.

"Perhaps you should see for yourself," Zevran suggested, and they continued through the halls.

A sudden loud barking caught their attention, and Leliana and Katja's hands flew instinctively to their weapons. Zevran and Neria were completely relaxed, however, looking down the other end of the hallway expectantly. "Ah, here comes little Duncan now," Neria chuckled, watching as Olan skidded around the corner of the corridor with a small boy riding on his back.

The child was most certainly Alistair's son – he had the same strong chin and golden hair, and the Theirin nose. Leliana gasped as she saw his eyes; they were shining emerald, framed by long, delicate eyelashes, and his charming, mischievous smile was that of his mother's. "He's…he's _Adeline's!_ " Leliana exclaimed, staring at the boy as he patted Olan's grey-streaked neck, the old mabari trotting over and greeting the familiar faces.

"Hi uncle Zev, auntie Neria," the five-year-old greeted, looking up at the other two with shining eyes.

"Duncan, you haven't met them yet, but these are your aunts Leliana and Katja," Neria said, indicating the women. Leliana and Katja felt touched that they were considered family, and the boy grinned up at the two with that familiar, charming smile.

"Mamae told me stories about you! I'm glad to meet you," he said politely, and Katja chuckled at how proper the child was. The boy glanced over his shoulder, grinning as his father came around the corner.

"Duncan, there you are," Alistair smiled pleasantly at the boy, glancing up at the company. "Oh! It's been a while Leliana, Katja," he added, clasping the women's arms in greeting. "Up we go," he added softly, picking up Duncan and putting him on his shoulder.

"It's good to see you, Your Majesty," Leliana smiled, and Alistair chuckled.

"Leliana, after all we've been through, you're still going to call me that?" he asked humorously, and the bard grinned.

"Very well, Alistair," the woman giggled. They glanced up as Adeline appeared at the end of the hall, her appearance startling Leliana and Katja – she was heavy with child.

"Ma'arlath, you shouldn't be walking around," Alistair chided gently as Adeline walked over, and the Elf snorted softly.

"And miss seeing my friends? Perish the thought," she grinned, looping her arm with Alistair's and leaning her head against his shoulder as he slid Duncan into his arm, holding the boy easily in the crook of his elbow. "It's good to see that you're well," she added to Leliana and Katja, who were still staring at her in disbelief. They saw the matching rings on her and Alistair's fingers, and a broad grin spread across each of their faces.

"You're…queen?" Katja asked, and Adeline shook her head, chuckling softly.

"No, I think that would be too much for the nobles to bear. Officially, I'm 'Princess-Consort'," Adeline explained. "I'm still not quite sure how we managed to get them to all agree to _that_ ," she added with a smile, and Alistair planted an affectionate kiss on his wife's head.

"Well, I'm sure it was their undying gratitude for you almost single-handedly ending the Blight…and helping them clear the darkspawn from their lands…and a good helping of your charm and charisma…" Alistair suggested, and Adeline scoffed, shaking her head. Alistair put Duncan down, and the boy hopped onto Olan's back as the mabari knelt, trotting around the group in a small circle.

"You act as if I was _alone_ , Alistair," she replied, glancing gratefully at her companions. "Now…I think I need to sit down soon. Daveth's due any day now," she added, placing a hand gently on her stomach, and Katja smiled.

"You know the gender?" she asked, and Adeline nodded.

"One of the court wizard's many talents," the Elf replied. "Now come on, why are we all standing out in the hall?" she added. The group of companions laughed and joked as they walked down the corridors of the Royal Palace, recalling tales of their adventure together.

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The End

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I'd like to say thank you to everyone who's been here from the beginning, and those who started reading along the way. I'm so glad that I've finally been able to share this story – it was sitting for a long time in my documents folder, and went through quite a few incarnations until I landed on Adeline Tabris's story. The desire demon aspect was actually a tamer version of the original idea – I was going to have Adeline discover that she's the daughter of Urthemiel – born out of a deal like the one her mother made with her demon self – and that's why he kept appearing in her dreams, telling her to kill him. Overall, I'm very happy with how this came out. Thank you all, again, for reading.

Atrast nal tunsha

May you always find your way in the dark

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